The Ransom
by cslev
Summary: A Medieval love story whose hero is caught between two worlds; loosely based on King Arthur/Kingdom of Heaven themes/settings-please read & review!
1. Chapter 1 The Betrayal

_**THE RANSOM **_

"_**But God will redeem my life from the grave; He will surely take me to himself." Psalm 49:15**_

_**Chapter 1 The Betrayal**_

Shrewsbury, England, April 1274

As they cleared the forest edge and began their ascent toward the castle keep, Jared's senses heightened in anticipation. Not only was their long journey about to end, but its outcome was highly uncertain. Though exhausted from the perils of the journey as well as hours with little sleep, he nursed a throbbing ache in his head by rubbing his temples with one gloved hand. Whether they met with success or not, he longed to throw himself onto anything softer than the hard ground and spend a few days stretching his legs. He'd pressed his brothers into riding from before dawn till it was too dark to ride safely, and the pace had taken its toll on them all. His plan had taken months of careful thought and preparation, and now they were about to present it to the king. All their futures hung in the balance, teetering upon the edge of either being executed or, with God's grace, bringing an end to decades of fighting to defend their lands.

Passing along the edge of the dense forest he lifted his hand to signal their pace into a canter. Once out from behind the cover of the wood they were much more vulnerable, yet no one had to see that at first glance. Boldly leading his four half brothers into the open field, he rode ahead just enough to present a united front. He pursed his lips and banished their countless arguments and fights from his memory, judging it as much a reward should they manage to end the fighting among them. Though he was the eldest and therefore in charge, he was nevertheless forced to endure their constant challenges to his authority, a test his father somehow considered him capable of passing.

Three of them had different mothers, his own having died when he was still a boy. Medwin, David and Morgan shared a mother now long cold in her grave as well from stillbirth. Geoff was the youngest and enjoyed the luxury of having a mother, and although she was excellent with the boy she had taken it upon herself to see to Jared's finding a wife. These past months he'd endured a score of parties whose main purpose was to display what she thought would be a suitable candidate for him to marry. In his usual characteristic manner he'd successfully avoiding appearing at the majority of them despite her throwing a fit whenever he managed to find pressing business far off in the hills or chieftain villages. Thankfully his father had not disowned him, though he sensed of late that his failure to make arrangements to secure his inheritance were causing even more friction in an already troubled relationship. In summation his life was in constant turmoil, though not as horrific as the kind endured upon Crusade. Now, gazing up at the deep blue sky of late spring, he prayed inwardly for a better year, one in which he could perhaps find a bit of peace.

Riding pass the first line of lean-tos and tents belonging to the masses encamped around the keep, he took his last breath of fresh air before the stench reached his nostrils. Their timing couldn't be better however, for the crowds gathering for the tournament provided more opportunity to move about without attracting much attention, giving them a chance to survey the particulars of the inner bailey. Should they be found out prematurely, they would throw themselves upon the king's good reputation and beg for the mercy he was sometimes known to extend to those less fortunate than himself. _Such as the likes of us, _he thought cynically.

Before long the sentry shout echoed toward them and he urged his stallion onto the access road, knowing their approach had been noted and was being carefully studied. He caught a glimpse of a few early risers among the tents and shelters, noting with compassion the young girls forced to trudge about their daily chores while their parents slept on, no doubt from a night of revelry. Breakfast porridge from their crudely dug camp pits alleviated the filthy water sopping the grounds at the perimeter. Tournaments always drew crowds of travelers eager to gain entrance either through honest means or robbing or stealing their way inside. But it was time to concentrate upon the task at hand, and he straightened his seat and shot a critical glare at the gatekeepers atop the parapet. Only two on this side, he noted.

Glancing back at his brothers, he nodded curtly before turning to study the bridge being lowered with the heavy grinding of chains. His stomach clenched at the sound, and quite unexpectedly it brought back flashes of his tortured past to blind his concentration. Gasping in surprise, he swallowed a protesting groan, vaguely aware of Medwin riding up to his side and gesturing at him. Shaking his head to clear the visions, he saw David appear at his other side. Cringing at his man's proud and arrogant stance, Jared sensed that somehow David had changed his mind and was looking forward to gaining an audience with the king. His wink and smile of approval seemed to confirm it.

While Jared parted his lips to warn against overconfidence he heard the gate crash to the ground. David's smile deepened as he bent forward, spurred his horse and shot away, Medwin following him with a whoop as they left Jared and the others behind. Though he shouted in protest they left him no recourse but to charge after them. _So much for a united front!_

"Stay close!" he ordered his younger brothers, grateful when they obeyed and did not rush to join the others. _What are those two up to now? _he wondered irritably, charging after them but feeling a creeping sense of something having gone terribly wrong. Shifting his attention to the huge battlements rising before them, he bit back a well deserved rebuke at David's cavalier attitude. It astounded him that his half brother was able to underestimate the influence and strength of this their enemy, or worse, challenge it by approaching in such a manner. All his carefully laid plans were quickly unraveling before his eyes. All he could do was try to catch up to them and cut them off.

Their coming here was to have been carried out anonymously, he outlined for the hundredth time in his mind. The plan was to register under different names, compete in the tournament and through successfully winning as many events they could gain the notice and audience of the king. As he watched David charge toward the moat bridge he was struck by the arrogant swagger in his demeanor. Even if they were the main contingent to beat at tournament, there was nothing to be gained by brandishing the fact ahead of time.

Following them onto the moat bridge he spied an escort in the distance, apparently leaving the bailey by way of a rear exit. When the small group of armed guards noted their presence however it halted and quickly began to reposition itself for defense. Jared drew on his reins to stop, watching in disbelief as David charged toward them with a shout of glee, switching his direction as Medwin followed close behind.

"It's the king!" David's voice trailed back to them, both he and Medwin choosing to ignore Jared's shouts to halt.

"Are you insane?" he called after them, cringing at the half dozen mounted guards riding out from the inner keep and heading straight toward them. Holding up a silencing hand to Geoff and Morgan, he watched as they charged instead after David and Medwin, leaving them with only two mounted guards to approach the place where they stood alone on the bridge.

"Shield us!" David called without looking back.

"Cease your plans!" Jared warned instead, but to no avail. David, to his horror, quickly drew his bow while Medwin lifted his spear as they bore down upon the escort's guard.

Watching helplessly as they shot arrows into the escort and quickly veered off back toward the forest, Jared realized that he had to go after them. Spurring his mount he turned to retreat back toward the cover of the forest, his younger brothers right with him. Perhaps they could distract the guard and escort now starting after them. A warning sounded from high on the battlements to announce another half dozen riders as they burst forth from the inner keep. Fortunately their own horses were much faster, and Jared could see that David and Medwin had already disappeared into the forest. He led his brothers in cutting a diagonal retreat into the forest, not surprised when he heard an arrow sing by his shoulder. Dropping back to let his younger brothers enter ahead, he prayed they would remember to make their way toward the pre-appointed meeting place and wait for him. To his surprise the castle guard was slow and disorganized, finally splitting up and entering the dense, rock strewn forest as if to sweep it clean for vermin.

Watching his younger brothers crash wildly up the incline, Jared guided his mount through the maze of obstacles and felt some relief when they gained considerable distance from him. He credited their wild escape to his own stallion Prince, glad that he'd lent him to Geoff, who tended to throw caution to the wind and endanger himself on one too many occasions. At least he would be safe and Father would not have his head, he thought distractedly, concentrating upon his own escape. He was not accustomed to Geoff's mount, a spirited but untried seat in battle. Even as he thought of his years of experience in battle he felt something pierce his leg, causing him to wince in pain. Forced to keep his eyes upon a quickly executed escape route, he felt a warm wet sensation spreading over his thigh. To make matters worse, Geoff's horse was weakening and losing speed despite his encouragement.

"Come boy," he repeated, finding the horse increasingly difficult to control. Geoff and Morgan were no doubt away, and even he was outdistancing the guard. The horse whinnied in fear and stumbled, quickly regaining his footing as they dodged numerous roots, boulders and ravines. He urged the tiring horse up the incline toward the ridge, trying his best to control it. Suddenly they swerved to one side and Jared leaned in the opposite direction to hold their balance. But he was too late, for the animal seemed to give up with a groan. Together they hurled sideways toward their shared fate, hitting the ground with such force that Jared was blinded by light which swiftly dimmed into darkness. His hands slowly loosened their grip and fell to the ground on either side of his hips.

_**Aileen covered her mouth in horror, eyes wide with alarm as she watched from her place of hiding.**_ She'd thrown herself into the bushes at the thundering sound of riders, rolling beneath their cover just before the first two flashed by and disappeared. This was followed only a short time afterward, and she had seen how the horse's side was streaked with blood. As she stared at it in silence she judged its gasping wheeze as all too familiar–a death cry if she'd ever heard one. The rider lay halfway beneath it, having hit hard. Somehow the stallion had jerked himself away as if to avoid crushing his rider beneath him, a fact she found remarkable. The man lay still as the only sound was the labored breathing from the horse's pierced lung. Off in the distance she could hear more riders approaching, forcing her to keep her head down and stay where she was. She lay hidden just below an outcrop of stone, heart pounding and wondering why she had been so foolish as to come out alone this morning.

_Why didn't I listen to Father this time? _she chastised herself. He had spent all night helping a difficult birthing, and she had been lonely enough as it was before that. All her efforts to find an escort to accompany her in the search for wild herbs—everyone was busy preparing for the hateful tournament which, in her opinion, snatched away all sensibility and reason from her male friends and transformed them into souls hungry for blood and conquest.

Swallowing hard, she watched the horizon cringing with fear as riders appeared over the ridge. There were four of them coming this way, two resembling the pair that had flashed by earlier. Their gazes were fixed upon the landscape as if searching for something that could only be the fallen one. Praying they would not discover her, she studied them carefully and knew the instant they had spotted the man. It prompted a gathering together which was more by instinct than by agreement, and they quietly approached the fallen one. They were all mail clad, she noted, no doubt here for the tournament. Yet she could see no distinguishing markings or colors in their attire or decorating their mounts. As she cringed and lowered her chin to the ground she studied their gestures and sizes. Two dismounted and walked over to him, standing and staring silently down at him. She nearly jumped when they began to speak heatedly all at once. Unfortunately they spoke in a language she could not understand, their words further muffled by their helms.

_Why didn't they do anything to help the fallen man?_ she wondered. _Why were they arguing amongst themselves, and about what? Truly a strange lot they are…_

_**Cursing fluently, Medwin flung himself to his knees and checked Jared's neck for any pulse of life.**_ He avoided looking at the grotesque twist of his leg as he shouted his report to David.

"He's alive, for now," he barked, gazing at the arrow embedded in the horse's chest. He'd heard the last wheeze of its breath and now all was still. Not even Jared's breathing could be heard. He looked up at David, whose eyes were hardened with hatred. Medwin cringed as he kept his eyes on David's face, silently pleading for mercy for Jared's sake. Suddenly David slid from his saddle and came over to shake his head at their oldest brother.

"We can't take him," he decided, glancing up to Morgan who nodded in agreement.

"He'll only slow us down," Morgan said harshly, turning his mount. "Let's go."

At this Geoff jumped from Jared's horse and stood facing them in defiance. "We'll not leave him!" he shouted, his voice cracking comically. "He's our _brother_, and they'll torture him if we leave—"

"He's been through worse before," David scoffed, kicking at his still brother. Smiling with pleasure, he kicked his side again while struggling with Geoff and holding the boy aside.

"You've no reason to hate him, after all he did for you!" Geoff cried, his face red as he swung at David but missed him. "I'm going to tell Father everything—"

"You'll do no such thing, if you want to escape punishment yourself," David warned darkly, shoving him away. He turned brusquely and went back to his horse. "After all, it's your fault he's riding your horse, isn't it?"

"They'll be coming," Morgan warned in a call over his shoulder as his horse sauntered away.

"It was your idea that got us into this mess!" Medwin argued, rising to stand by Geoff. "How dare you kick him when he's down—"

"He was going to make _peace_ with Edward!" David sneered, leaning forward over his pommel. "I had to do something—now get back up and let's be off, before we're all caught!"

Geoff switched a frightened gaze from David to Medwin, who nodded with one last glance down at his brother. He frowned in regret but strode to his horse and mounted.

"But Father will have all our hides," Geoff railed, tears in his eyes. Still, he turned to get his horse.

"We must leave him," Medwin growled, shaking his head as he spurred his horse. "He cannot ride for risk of losing that leg."

"Jared was right," Geoff complained, catching up to him. "We're all fools, left to ourselves."

Medwin glanced up toward David's retreat, pursing his lips. "We couldn't let an opportunity like that pass," he tried explaining. "We got at least one arrow into the king, which was worth it!"

"It wasn't worth losing a brother!" Geoff sniffed, wiping his sleeve across his nose. "Not a brother like Jared!"

_**Aileen watched them ride off, too afraid to move lest they come back. **_Strangely divided they were, it seemed, over leaving what could only be their friend or relative. Only the youngest seemed insistent upon taking him along, and she wondered why they did not. As the silence of the forest enveloped her once again she realized how they had misled the castle guard, yet she prayed they would somehow find their way here. Though she knew she faced a stern lecture from her father she needed to tend to the injured man, and she needed help. The guard would eventually comb this section of the forest, yet it might be some time given the fact that even she had not ventured this far into the wood. But until they did time was running out for the man. And so with a beating heart she crawled out of the brush and got to her knees, slowly approaching the man who laid still, a small pool of blood beneath his leg. Eyeing his position beneath the left flank of the dead horse, she knew that she could not do much to help him. Yet still she dropped to her knees beside his shoulder, her hands reaching gently beneath his neck.

Leaning over him, she pressed her fingers to his neck and felt a faint, rapid beat which confirmed he still lived. His neck did not seem injured, though blood trickled out from under his helm on one side. She began to unfasten the laces of the helm as he suddenly gasped and gripped her boy's tunic. His eyes shot open and stared up at her dazedly, though she doubted he could see her clearly judging from the head injury. They were an unusual colour, a combination of gray and green, but she was quickly distracted by his choking.

"Breathe shallow!" she ordered, quickly unlacing the helm and pulling it aside. He took great breaths of air, his grip on her tightening as his shoulders curled toward her. "Don't move!" she ordered, shoving him back down as he grunted in pain.

He stilled beneath her pinning hands, gritting his jaw and obviously in pain. His hands gripped her upper arms, as he attempted to breathe more slowly and focus upon her.

"Can you understand me?" she said loudly and slowly, hoping to somehow communicate with him though she did not recognize the language of his companions. "Sir Knight?" she prompted, studying his eyes to determine his clarity of mind. They were the colour of the sea, she decided as his hands dropped from her arms and fell limply to his sides. "Try to lie still," she lectured calmly. "I think you may have broken a rib or two as well."

His vision was clearing, causing him to stare into her eyes in a fashion she found increasingly disarming. As they traveled from a quick survey of her face down her neck and over her chest she blushed and gripped his shoulders tighter.

"I need to bind your leg to stop the bleeding," she nearly shouted, staring at his confused expression. "…parlez vous Francaise, monsieur? Do you understand what I am say—"

"Course I do," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. "—not deaf!"

She lifted her hands from his shoulders. "You can?" she gasped just before snapping to attention. She began to pull out the long tunic from her baggy pants to tear it into strips, her gaze shooting back to his face. He pursed his lips and relaxed a bit too suddenly, she judged, knowing he had already drifted away to a less painful place.

"It's better that way," she told him, pulling her sewing scissors from her bag and beginning to cut at the fabric above the bleeding. To her great relief she heard the calls of the guard back and forth to each other, and within minutes she heard her own name called in disbelief. Ignoring her friend Artus yet flinching inwardly from the railing she knew was forthcoming, she worked quickly and efficiently.

"What are _you_ doing out here?" he complained as he dismounted and came to her side. Calling to one of his men he added, "I think we found one," his eyes holding hers before piercing the man with a glare of disapproval. "Rory, get Aileen's father and the wagon as well."

"Aye, sir," the guardsman replied. "We'll rope the corpse and lift it off him, too."

As his men ran off to carry out his orders she watched him drop to one knee. Without further comment he helped her to staunch the blood flow with a tourniquet.

"Well?" he breathed as he dropped some thick branches at her side to splint the leg.

"I was gathering herbs," she shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I heard riders and hid."

"Did you see the others?"

"Two passed by, then this one, then two more…is the wagon coming?"

"Donal," he called loudly, though she could still feel his eyes upon her profile. "Start digging a hole to bury the horse, but bring me the bag and whatever scrap you can find from the surrounding area."

"Right, mate," he answered, climbing over the horse's legs to retrieve the saddlebag.

"Help me get his boot off," she ordered Artus, which he did without question. "I need you to set the leg—you're stronger than I."

"Aye sir," he teased her, working alongside her. "Are you sure no one saw you?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "I was in the bushes above—they couldn't have seen me."

"Good—did they say anything?"

"They argued among themselves," she answered, holding his foot while the leg was set. Thankfully the man was senseless and spared the additional pain. "I couldn't understand them," she continued, leaving out the fact that the man had spoken to her in their own language. "Their tongue was northern, I believe."

"Cymri," he sighed, leaning back on his haunches after they splinted and bound the leg.

"Maybe," she quipped, her heart beating faster at the prospect of Cymri warlords coming here, into Edward's hunting domain. But why would their avowed enemies come here, she wondered, to lands that neither bordered the Dyke or extended anywhere near their disputed lands.

"Tell me everything that happened," he ordered, getting to his feet to gaze down at the man, "in particular why you think they might have left this one behind."

"He's obviously too hurt to ride," she shrugged, gazing off toward the sound of the wagon coming through the forest.

"Cymri never leave one of their own behind," he stated, "not even their dead."

"They argued about it, I think. Maybe they were traveling separately and met here," she guessed, not really knowing why she could not tell Artus truth.

"What did the others look like?"

"Big and muscular, more stocky than this one," she realized as she said it. "All had dark hair and eyes except the oldest—he had red hair, as far as I could tell from what hung beneath their helms."

The wagon was drawing closer, and in the back she saw her father, his face gathered into a storm when he saw her.

"No colors or insignia?"

"No," she answered, biting her lower lip at her father's expression, "just plain mail."

Artus turned to wave to her father. "It doesn't give us much to go by…"

Aileen quickly put her things away, cringing at the sound of her father's tone. "Aileen—what did I tell you about being out alone?" he asked.

She looked up as he dismounted and came toward them, nodding his thanks to Artus. Without a word Artus went off to speak to his men as her father dropped to his knees to examine the injured man.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said meekly, waiting until he glanced up. "I just needed to gather more herbs, and couldn't find an escort. When I heard riders, I hid—no one saw me, Father."

"Good," he replied, glancing at her boy's clothing and relaxing somewhat. "Did you see this happen?" he nodded toward the man.

"I did—the horse took an arrow to the lung. I pulled the shaft from his thigh, but it pierced the horse's side. After a few seconds it stumbled and fell. The horse tried to roll off him, Father—as if it knew it would hurt its rider…"

He glanced toward the animal as four men came up and began tying a rope around it. "Looks like a lot of blood lost," he judged, getting to his feet and helping guide the wagon driver closer.

"Artus set the leg—do you think you can save it, Father?" she said once standing at his side.

"I'll try," he frowned, glancing down at the man's ashen face. "If he wasn't a knight he'd be better off without it. What about the head or neck?"

"He'll need a few stitches to the scalp, I'll wager," she estimated. "I believe a few ribs suffered as well."

"We'll have to be careful moving him," he concluded, motioning to the men. "Get a plank to slide beneath him."

"Aye, sir," Donal answered, moving toward the wagon.

Artus led his horse closer and mounted. "My men will escort you back—I must question the watchmen for further details."

Aileen waved as he rode off. Donal returned, and with two other men they managed to lift the body of the horse off the man, then carry him to the wagon on the plank. Finally her father stood to one side, offering her a hand up.

"Careful," he ordered as she climbed in back and began to cover the patient.

"I'll steady his leg," she offered, looking momentarily back to the dead horse as it was being dragged toward a large hole. Such a fine animal, she thought sadly, forcing her attention back to their patient.

It was a bumpy ride until they made it to the access road. Holding his leg elevated with another board and resting over her lap, Aileen stared at the bridge hoping the man would not awaken before they could give him something to dull the pain.

_Lord, help him to fight, and to survive, _she prayed silently_. Please spare his life…_

It did not once occur to her that he might be considered an enemy.

_**Jared groaned softly at the pain gripping his leg.**_ Pain knifed his side and a choking thirst burned his throat. Finally opening his eyes, he tried to see into the darkness. A few candles lit the room in which he lay, and it appeared he was alone. Lifting his head took a great deal of effort, rewarding him with a wave of nausea that pressed him quickly back to his pillow. Pain shot through his lower leg, stabbing at his knee and thigh. He felt along the bandages at his side toward his leg, finding a thick padding which began at his thigh and extended down below his knee, farther than he could reach with the pain in his side. Unable to feel anything below his knee, he was gripped by panic and tried to call for help. All he heard was the croak of a bark that seemed to come from his throat.

_What happened to my leg?_ he wondered, panting and trying to dispel the quaking fear that it was no longer there.

A cool hand touched his brow, startling him. He pried open his eyes just as someone bent over him, a dark shadow. He caught a strangely familiar scent, like lavender and flowers, yet he had no idea why it would be familiar.

"Sir Knight—" a woman's soft voice spoke just above a whisper. The cool hand touched his jaw. "I have something for you to drink." When she turned away he could see the curve of her cheek in the dim light.

Something which felt like parchment touched his lips. He turned his head away and pursed his lips.

"You need to drink something," she scolded gently, "-you are burning with fever."

How could he drink? He couldn't even raise his head. Yet the parchment touched his lips again.

"You mustn't lift your head," she warned. "Just suck the liquid up through it."

He slowly turned his head back, trying to look up at her but frustrated by the darkness. "What is it?" he whispered through cracked lips.

"Watered wine, with something to dull the pain."

He tried studying her face, only able to see the bit of light gilding her cheek and her long hair framing her profile.

"You will have to trust me," she said gently, gently touching his lips with the parchment, almost like a caress.

Chastising himself for his delusional observation he did as instructed. When the wine trickled over his tongue and bathed his throat he sighed with blessed relief, pulling more into his mouth.

"Slowly!" she warned, withdrawing it. "Only a little at a time, or you'll sour your stomach."

The strange funnel touched his lips again, and he took more. Closing his eyes, he felt warmth flow into his chest and burn pleasantly down inside him. She turned away and he stared at her shadowed movements set against the fire, feeling the pain already begin to weaken its grip. She busied herself mixing what smelled like leaves and other liquids poured into a small bowl. He shifted his head to take the pressure off the back of his aching head and tried moistening his lips.

"Where is...this place?" he rasped.

She continued to blend something, peering into the bowl. He soon wondered if she had heard him.

"The physician's quarters at Shrewsbury," she told him, glancing toward him as her hands stilled.

"How long?"

"You have been in and out of delirium for three days now."

She turned at that and reached across the small table for something. Her body was lit by silhouette, and he closed his eyes at the feminine curve of her arm and chest. A cool compress touched his brow and was held in place. A shiver ran up his neck and he forced his attention back to his injuries.

"My leg…"

She withdrew the compress and reached for something, which she draped over his bare chest, giving him immediate relief from the chill shaking his shoulders.

"You have had two breaks, with much bleeding," she told him softly. "I think you know that a few of your ribs are cracked."

"I cannot feel anything below my knee," he changed the subject back.

"Do not worry, the medication prevents you from feeling anything," she explained softly. Turning away once again, she brought a candle closer to examine his face. He stared up at her, silently studying the heart shaped curve of her face. Her eyes were huge and dark, her lips full and soft in the light.

"My father believes you will recover most of the use of your leg, with time," she stated with a slight smile.

_Who is she?_ he wondered. "Your father...?"

"Neal Carrick," she explained, setting the candle down upon the closer table. "My name is Aileen…and you are...?"

He closed his eyes, beginning to remember a boy with similar eyes who leaned over him in the forest.

"Sir Knight?" she prompted, touching his shoulder gently. "Have I given you too much laudanum?"

"Sir Knight suits me fine, milady," he whispered, watching her guardedly. Perhaps it was her twin brother, who found me. _What else did he find, and see?_

She smiled fully, making him wish the light was better to see the effect. "A jester, I think," she laughed softly. "Not a knight."

Jared felt pleasantly drowsy, closing his eyes and feeling extremely weak. Something sticky touched his lips, and his eyes shot open. "What is that?"

"You need something in you," she explained. "It's only oatmeal."

He let her push the spoon between his lips and accepted it, surprised at how wonderful it tasted. Swallowing carefully, he accepted another spoonful, then another. "Thank you," he breathed, lifting a hand after only a few more spoonfuls. He had not, after all, eaten much over the past few days in an effort to fast and pray for a resolution to the wars within and outside their people.

"Do you remember your injury, Sir Knight?" she asked after setting aside the bowl.

He studied her carefully, deciding that it was she who had found him, perhaps while disguised as her twin brother. "Not much," he answered, remembering her removing his helm.

"It was I who found you in the wood," she said softly, leaning back in her rocking chair to study him.

He had never had such attention from a woman's eyes before, save for a bold and hungry lust he did not welcome. "I know," he admitted, surprising himself.

She held his gaze. "The guard wished to question you, as soon as you wake up," she sighed, drawing her shawl over her bosom. To his surprise and without intending to, his eyes followed the gesture. "I have been telling them you are not coherent enough."

He almost laughed at her gentle tease, but pain gripped his leg unexpectedly. "I appreciate that," he said hoarsely.

She leaned forward, touching his arm. "Which pains you more, leg or side?"

He closed his eyes, willing sleep and sweet oblivion to escape the feeling. "Tis all the same, milady."

The parchment touched his lips after a moment, and he drank, tasting a bitter wine. But he did not question her as to what it contained.

"We have prayed for you, Sir Knight..." she said softly, and he heard the chair creak softly as she began to rock slowly. "Quite earnestly..."

"I do thank God for my life," he said, opening his eyes again. "And you and your father, for saving my leg."

She nodded, looking away toward the fire. He studied her profile against the firelight, feeling strangely content. Perhaps it was because he sensed her own peace of mind. She was waiting for him to fall asleep, but he fought it just to speak with her. What fate awaited him after that, he knew not.

"My name is Jared," he told her after a while.

She turned her head to look at him and smiled gently. "I am honored to make your acquaintance, sir."

"You should not venture out alone," he lectured her gently, closing his eyes. He heard her sigh of resignation.

"Everyone tells me that," she agreed reluctantly.

"'Tis not safe for one so young…and fair."

After a moment of silence, she began rocking again. "I appreciate your concern—"

"I am serious," he said lazily, waiting for her to look at him again. Which she did.

She shook her head gently. "The light is very poor in this room, Sir Jared."

"It wasn't in the wood," he said softly, holding her gaze.

She looked away and he could almost see her blush. For some reason he found that endearing.

"You mustn't strain yourself with such trifling, milord."

He closed his eyes, feeling pleasantly relaxed as the pain ebbed away. "It might hasten my recovery."

"Teasing grown women is a waste of time, Sir."

"I am not teasing, Aileen." Her name sounded different when he spoke it, feminine and soft.

"I take care for my safety," she defended. "And now for yours."

_**When he did not respond, she sensed he had fallen into a deep sleep.**_ His breathing was comforting, and she dared to watch his muscular chest rise and fall gently with each subdued breath. _It must pain him a great deal even to breathe,_ she thought with dismay, remembering the cause. The fierce kicks delivered by his friend or companion, more like an enemy she thought angrily. When there was a sound at the outer door open she got up quietly and left to see who it was. Peeking through the spy hole, she saw her father standing at the threshold. At either side she could see the helms of two guards and leaned back with a scowl. Then she lifted the latch.

Neal entered quickly and locked it behind himself, frowning as he nodded toward the inner chamber. "Is he about his wits?" he asked quietly, walking with her toward the other room.

She nodded. "I think he just fell back to sleep, with the help of additional laudanum. He is in a lot of pain."

Neal guided her back toward the table and sat heavily, rubbing a hand over his whiskers. "I told them it wasn't time yet."

Aileen glanced toward the door with a scowl. "They have posted guards at our door?"

"He is a suspect in the attack against Edward, my dear."

She sat down, leaning her arms upon the table. "Still, there is no need to spy upon us!"

Neal frowned. "It is to be expected—did he eat anything?"

"Some gruel, but only a few spoonfuls."

"Good—what about the fever?"

"Still there..." She poured him a drink, and one for herself. "He remembered me, from the wood, Father."

"Really…"

"His name is Jared."

Neal studied her a moment, then took a sip. "The two they managed to capture have admitted to hiring him as their escort," he informed her. "Apparently he was told they were just attending the tournament, nothing more."

Aileen knew there was more to the story, but kept silent.

"Edward will be coming himself in the morning, to question him.

She shook her head. "It's too soon."

"We should be grateful we are not tending him in the dungeon, my dear."

She sat up straighter. "What if I can get him to talk?"

He stared at her a moment. "Edward will still wish to speak with him directly—this is a serious matter, Aileen."

"Not if he was only a hired escort."

Neal sat back, gazing toward the door. "I'll watch him tonight; you must be exhausted."

She nodded and rose. "I think I should fetch us some dinner," she stated, going to the door. "I'll be back with something."

"Take care, Aileen," he said gently, watching her until the door closed between them.

Once outside it she lowered her head and hurried past the two guards, glancing back at them with a frown. "You'll see," she vowed under her breath as she headed down the adjacent corridor. "He's no threat to Edward."

And as she thought about his traveling companions, she shuddered and prayed that it would turn out to be true.

_c. 2008 by Christine Levitt_


	2. Chapter 2 The Exile

_**Chapter 2 – The Exile **_

Aileen awoke disoriented, finding herself in the chair by the hearth, her journal open in her lap. She remembered writing her impressions of the previous day but must have continued later than planned and fallen asleep. Judging by the strength of the light streaming into the room, she had overslept by several hours. Why hadn't Father awakened her? Today was the day the king was to see Sir Jared, and she must be there to support him. Rising quickly, she hid her journal beneath the cushion and ran into her bedchamber to change as quickly as she could.

After splashing water over her face and neck she tried to pin up her hair but gave up after several attempts. Dressing in a simple butter yellow frock she quickly braided her hair into one long tail as she made her way back to the infirmary. Guards were still posted at the door, but these two she did not recognize. Feeling awkward to be standing between them, she rapped on the door and nearly jumped when her father quickly opened it. His worried frown eased when he saw her, and when he closed the door behind her she looked at him questioningly.

"I thought you were Edward," he explained quietly, his manner somewhat agitated. He looked pale and drawn, as if he had not slept. "He should be here momentarily—God help us."

"What is wrong?" she whispered, glancing toward the inner chamber. "Is he well?"

Neal shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "He spent a troubled night, but the fever has finally broken. He even tried to get up, thinking he was elsewhere."

"Oh dear," she worried, stepping to the threshold to glance in. Jared's head was turned toward the wall, and she could hear his deep, slow breathing. She went back to her father's side. "He's sleeping soundly."

"That presents a problem if Edward comes before he awakens," he complained. "I had to scrub and re-salve the wound to prevent infection, which was a terrible ordeal for him. He passed out, but I wonder if before the injury that he was perhaps not in the best of health."

"The Cymri lands are very distant, are they not?"

He nodded. "Their territory is vast, which would explain his weakened condition."

"We must not worry, Father—Edward is not unreasonable."

"He may be, with his compatriots in custody; somehow I cannot imagine Sir Jared traveling all this way to attack the king under such circumstances. Something is missing from this picture, I feel."

She glanced back toward the bedchamber. "Do you believe Edward might lose his temper and banish him to the dungeons?"

"I don't know what to expect, but if he does Sir Jared is still young and with adequate rest will survive even that."

"With our help," she vowed, should those events transpire.

A rap on the door interrupted them. Father turned his head to stare at it. "That would be him."

Before they could answer the door it opened and there stood the king, dressed for hunting. She dipped into a quick curtsy while her father bowed at the waist, both greeting him properly.

"Carrick—ah, Lady Aileen, what a pleasure," Edward answered pleasantly, glancing at her father. "I trust you were expecting me?"

"Of course, sire," Neal answered, his brow furrowing. "I must warn you, Your Majesty, that our patient has only just fallen to sleep after a very difficult and—"

"Then we must wake him," Edward frowned. "It is crucial that I speak with him now, before I return to Westminster. The matter cannot be delayed further."

Aileen straightened and shot a glance at her father before facing Edward. "Shall I wake him for you, sire?" she offered.

Edward threw her father a questioning look.

"She has borne the majority of his care," he explained as if embarrassed by the fact.

Edward waved a hand of dismissal. "Of course—perhaps if you wake him he might be more cooperative."

Aileen quickly left the room, feeling like shouting in protest at the smug smile accompanying that comment. _What was that supposed to mean, anyway?_

"She has conversed with him," she heard her father state as she approached Jared's side. Leaning over to gently touch his brow, she found it cooler to touch. Breathing a prayer of thanks she studied his face, noting how exhausted he looked even in sleep. Hating to rob him of that much needed rest, she touched his shoulder.

"Sir Jared."

After a moment he tensed and slowly opened his eyes, turning his head to gaze up at her with a confused expression.

"I am sorry to wake you," she apologized, "but the king is here, and wishes to speak with you."

She watched as understanding lit his countenance; he lifted his head, gripping his side.

"Help me up," he croaked, pushing himself backward in an attempt to sit up. At his indrawn breath she placed a restraining hand upon his chest, unable to ignore its solid warmth.

"Wait—" she ordered, leaning closer in order to reach around him. Pulling the extra pillow behind him, she stood it up at his back. "This will help."

He did not move as she positioned them, and when she glanced down their faces were very close. A flash of masculine interest lit his eyes right before he glanced away. Feeling shocked and thrilled at the same time, she hid her feelings and pulled the blanket higher over his bandaged leg. Touching his foot, she heard him expel the breath before he leaned back, eyes lifting again to hers.

"Can you feel this?" she asked, gently probing his forefoot. Outside they could hear snatches of conversation from her father and Edward.

"I can," he answered softly, and for a moment she thought he would smile.

Joy flooded her heart as she tried it again. "And this?"

He nodded. "Have I been given a lesser medicinal?" he asked.

She went to the table to check the small bottle sitting there. "It does not appear so," she answered, smiling at him. "This is good news, Sir Jared."

"I believe it is," he said, his expression darkening as he glanced back toward the door.

"Would you like an even smaller amount now?" she asked, and when he nodded without turning she poured a quarter dose. Stepping closer, she held it out.

He turned and reached out, his hand curling around hers as she held it for him. Its size dwarfed hers, making her feel small and childish. There were roughened callouses which she could feel, causing her to wonder how they were put there. He looked up, his silvery gaze firing before he took it from her and tipped his head back to drink the entire contents. She watched, her gaze drawn to the movement of throat as he swallowed, causing her own throat to feel suddenly dry.

_Stop staring at him!_ she told herself at the same time he looked up at her, making her feel even more nervous. She forced a smile.

"I can stay, should you need anything," she offered, taking the empty tankard from him. "I hope you don't mind."

"Thank you," he said thickly, his eyes holding hers. "But I do mind."

Feeling her spirits fall she glanced toward the door. "Father was up all night with you—"

"I no longer need a nursemaid—"

"and he too needs his rest," she finished, staring at him pointedly. "Besides that, it was I who found you."

"I must speak to the king privately," he insisted, his expression revealing his regret while pleading for her understanding. "Please."

"But Sir Jared—"

"The less you know about me the better," he said tightly, nodding toward the door. "I'm ready now."

He had apparently made up his mind, she thought irritably. _Tis a man's affair_, a voice lectured inside her. Feeling suddenly superfluous, she nodded just as curtly.

"Very well," she said primly, turning to leave just as Edward appeared at the threshold. She watched the king's gaze shift from her face to Jared's, and it was clear that he sensed the tension in the room.

"Thank you, Lady Aileen," Jared said quietly, drawing her attention. He waited until she nodded, causing her to feel childish.

She looked up at Edward. "Is there anything you need, Your Grace?"

"Not at the moment," he stated, his attention on Jared. Dismissed, she left as he closed the door after her.

Her father stood at the counter, but turned his head. "Have you broken the fast?"

She went to his side and watched him pour a cup of chamomile tea. "I awoke too late."

"You should fetch something from the kitchens," he advised, pouring her a cup. "Something tells me this interrogation will be a lengthy one."

"Interrogation? But I thought—"

"I'll be here to defend him," her father chuckled, sipping his tea as he studied her over the rim of the mug. "Edward already told me that he believes Sir Jared is innocent of any ill intent."

"He did?" she said, feeling like shouting for joy, though she kept her gaze averted while sipping her own tea.

"You're fond of him, are you not?"

"Father!" she hissed, looking up and glancing toward the door. "They'll hear you!"

He smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. "Go on," he encouraged softly, "and bring some lunch back for us. If and when Sir Jared regains his appetite, we must be prepared."

Glad for something to do, she kissed his cheek. "All right, but I won't be long."

"Take you time," he soothed, watching her rush to the door and scowl at the guards. "It's a beautiful day out there, so enjoy it."

_**Jared studied the man he'd seen only once before, and that from a distance.**_ Edward was tall and fit with an intelligent face that was prematurely lined. Without prelude he pulled the rocking chair close to the bed and seated himself opposite his elevated, heavily bandaged leg. His eyes inspected it carefully before he looked up with a frown.

Jared nodded toward his leg. "Forgive me for not rising," he said, noting the king's deepening frown. "Your Majesty," he added to smooth over the jest which apparently had not been appreciated.

"I trust you are recovering well enough," Edward stated, eyes boring into his, "thanks to my physician's expert care."

"I seem to be, Your Grace," he replied, resting his aching head back against the pillows Aileen had stood behind him. "I appreciated being allowed the luxury, sire—I am in your debt."

Edward tilted his head to one side, his eyes narrowing upon his face. "We shall see then, how you might repay that debt, as well as others."

Anger and frustration welled up within him as he averted his gaze to the small window opposite him. Along with the return of feeling to his leg had come the restoration of his memory concerning the cruel betrayal and treatment he'd suffered from the hands of his brothers. Still struggling to forgive the injustice of his circumstances, he could imagine them twisting the truth to their father for their own advantage. They were no doubt resting easily back home, mourning his early demise while they divided his inheritance. Worse, his carefully set plans for peace were ruined, thanks to their ability to deceive him.

"You might begin by outlining the purpose of your visit here," Edward prompted.

"I am afraid that is no longer valid, Your Grace."

"Ah, so you choose to offer only that information which is absolutely necessary."

Jared met his gaze. "I am afraid so, sire."

"Don't wish to indict yourself, do you?"

Jared sighed in frustration. "I fear that I already am indicted, sire."

"Don't be so sure," Edward stated, crossing his arms. "You might be interested to know that I have in my custody two of the men who accompanied you, and unlike you they have been most talkative concerning that subject."

Feeling as if a stone had dropped within him, Jared pursed his lips. "I was not aware of that."

Edward's expression soured considerably. "Their names are David and Morgan, as I have since discovered…your brothers, I believe?"

Wondering how Edward's men had managed to capture them, he was relieved that the others had no doubt escaped. "_Half-_brothers, Your Majesty."

"Ah, that explains a great deal," the king mused, gripping the arms of the chair. "Initially their story was that you were their guide, hired to escort them to the tournament. However after questioning them at length, together and individually, we have discovered what we believe is the truth, confirmed by some careful research into the matter."

_And now it is my turn,_ Jared thought, angry all over again at his brothers for getting them all into trouble. If they had only listened to him, they might have had a chance to gain some concessions from Edward. Now not only were they in his custody and in danger of being tried for treason, but the future of their people grew considerably dimmer with no one to unite and lead them.

"I had heard of David before this," Edward continued. "His pride is quite legendary. One wonders what he will do when he discovers who the true leader of the Cymri is to be."

"Your Majesty, I beg pardon for my broth—"

"You accompanied my army to Jerusalem, did you not?" Edward interrupted, watching him carefully.

Jared's heart sank further. _How did he know that? _he wondered as he looked away. "It was unfortunately necessary, sire."

"I agree completely," Edward breathed, startling him. When Jared looked back at him, he continued. "I find it truly ironic that _David _ap-Ryce should presume to be that leader, as well as believe my demise could so easily be accomplished by attacking my escort."

"That was only a ruse, sire—not a serious threat," Jared explained, holding Edward's gaze. _Otherwise you would be dead._

"Nor was it _your_ plan," he shot back, looking immensely pleased with himself. "Enlighten me, Jared—I am intrigued as to the nature of _your _objective in coming here, or am I to believe as your brothers state that you merely wished to compete in the tournament?"

"Please, sire, forgive their foolish and impulsive natures."

"Don't bother to defend them," Edward ordered, sitting on the edge of his seat. "They've proven what caliber of men they are."

Jared looked away. "I am afraid that is so, Your Grace."

"Would that more of your people be men of character, like yourself."

Jared looked up. "My people are a divided people, sire, yet I strive to undo that with your help."

"Really?" Edward breathed, "I doubt they would welcome my involvement, but I do commend you for your vision. Was this _your_ objective for this visit?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," he admitted. "I planned that we might champion the events here, thus gaining your audience."

"Well you have it, though not by the intended route," Edward said, obviously relieved. "State your proposal then—I must be on my way to Westminster, having been so delayed."

"I have signed and witnessed documents outlining our objectives," Jared said eagerly, his spirits lifting. "Nearly half the chieftains of the North agree to the plan."

"Where are these documents?"

"Hidden in my bag, sire."

"My men searched through all your belongings, finding nothing of import."

"If they are brought to me I will produce them for you," he suggested. "On the other hand, you might take them along on your journey as reading material to help pass the time."

"Splendid! I'll have one of my guards fetch them," he stated, motioning to Neal to bring one of the men in. When he was given the charge he rushed out while Edward sat back down. "While we wait, do tell me their main thrust."

Jared proceeded to state his proposal as briefly as he could. His bags were brought and he cut open the bottom compartment and withdrew the documents. These he presented to Edward, who got up and stood towering over him.

"I am impressed," he mused, beginning to pace. "It just might work, and benefit things for us as well. I would like to take these along for consideration, and when I return in a month's time we shall present them to my advisers—by then Carrick will have you up and about so that you can attend."

"Thank you, Your Majesty, I appreciate your consideration," Jared stated. "And now, by your leave, concerning my brothers—"

"They will be accompanying me to Westminster for having committed a treasonous act," he stated, moving toward the door. When he tugged it open Neal's worried face appeared again just outside. "But do not fear, I will hold them there only until you and I decide what to do with them. But I insist that you have no contact with anyone back home in the meantime. If that is a hardship for you, then I apologize."

"It is no hardship, and I am grateful, sire," he answered, knowing that if word of David and Morgan's whereabouts reached home, someone would be going after them.

Edward nodded, stepping halfway out the door before he paused. "One more thing, Jared—while you are recovering I would like you to consider working for _me_."

He stared at the king in disbelief. "Work for you, sire?"

Edward stood aside to allow Neal to pass him. "I recognize wisdom and competence when I see it," he shrugged. "Give it some thought, and I will hear your answer in a month."

"But I have nothing to offer, beyond what we discussed—"

"I disagree," Edward said, holding up a hand. "If you would rather not consider it I will order negotiations to be made in order to secure a ransom for your release."

Jared pursed his lips, holding Edward's expectant smile. "There will be no ransom," he said tightly, sensing the moment crucial for his future. But he had no other choice—Edward's offer was his only hope.

"Surely that cannot be the case," Edward dismissed. "When you return warn your people that should these lands ever be approached in a similar manner to that of your half-brothers, it will be interpreted as an act of war. Any contact between us must be solely through you."

"I've made my decision," Jared stated after noting Neal's worried frown. "I accept your offer."

Edward planted his hands on his hips, his surprise and pleasure obvious. "Good then—we will work out the details upon my return."

"I look forward to it," Jared answered. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Edward nodded and bid them good day, leaving quickly with the documents Jared had prayed would finally reach his hand. He felt Neal rest a hand upon his shoulder as the door closed.

"That was an unexpected ending," the physician stated as Jared rubbed his temple. He poured him a drink and held it out. "So are congratulations in order?"

"I fear I've just sealed my doom," Jared stated, drinking the watered wine. He glanced up at the man who was becoming his friend. "Thank you, sir, for all you've done for me."

"Call me Neal," he said, sitting heavily in the rocking chair. They heard the door open and light steps, accompanied by soft humming of a tune as dishes were rattled and the scent of fresh baked bread wafted toward them.

Jared nodded toward the outer room. "I did not intend to offend your daughter," he said quietly. "It was for her own protection that I insisted upon privacy."

"I realize that, and I'm sure she will too," Neal assured him. "Now please enlighten me as to why you would choose staying here to serve an English king instead of returning home."

Jared closed his eyes feeling exhausted, depressed, in pain and, amazingly, hungry. "I'm not quite sure why, nor have I the strength to sort it all out."

"Edward has that effect, I'm afraid," Neal commiserated, eyeing him. "But you're not getting out of it that easily. I'll be waiting to hear why, as soon as you are up to it."

Jared nodded, his respect for the man growing each moment. "I will—you have my word."

"Good!" Neal said, slapping his own knees. "Now why don't I help Aileen bring in some lunch?"

"_**But Father, only a fortnight has passed since his injury!" **_She objected a bit too loudly, causing the people at the next table to stop eating, food suspended halfway to their mouths as they started. Smiling somewhat sheepishly, she lifted her cup to her lips and took a few swallows as she stared back at her father. Unruffled, he rested his hands upon the table.

"He is more than ready," he insisted quietly, though the din of the dining hall nearly drowned out his words once it had returned to its full volume. "Only yesterday I found him halfway to the door by the time I came back, and I'd only left him for a moment."

"Was he all right?" she gasped, concerned for Jared's well-being despite being irritated with him. She still partly resented his stern insistence that she leave, though the request was completely within reason.

"Yes, of course," he assured her, leaning closer. "He is a knight, in case you've forgotten. A man like that will not tolerate being in a weakened position for long."

"The fact that he has testifies to the extent of his injuries!" she argued, eyes darting around to be sure no one overheard them. "I do think it is too soon, considering the fact that he could have lost his leg."

"I have worked him through all the strengthening maneuvers while you've been busy in the nursery," her father explained. "He is doing very well, getting stronger each day and more apt with the crutches. Before week's end he should be out and about with use of a cane."

"But Artus told me that such injuries take months to heal!"

"Artus has just passed his boyhood, whereas Jared is a seasoned knight, having experienced combat many times."

"What you are saying, Father?" she demanded in a lowered voice. "We should encourage him to start walking up and down the corridors followed by Edward's _guards?"_

He looked stunned for a moment before nodding. "I forgot about the guards…perhaps we can sneak him out the back, or let him walk in the garden for practice."

She placed her mug upon the table, noting her three worst enemies across the hall, all pointing and laughing at her behind raised hands. "That would be better than exposing him for the rest of the keep to see," she sighed.

Her father followed the direction of her gaze, noting the girls. "I am beginning to understand," he growled, turning his attention back to her. "I think you should take over the responsibility of his recovery—it will do you good to spend time in more mature company."

She waved a hand of dismissal toward the girls. "They are harmless, Father."

"I doubt that," he said, draining his mug. "Now that I think on it, the solution is perfect; you wouldn't mind taking him off my hands, would you dear? That way I can concentrate upon my research."

Aileen folded her arms on the table, studying the way he avoided her gaze. "Father, what are you up to?"

His looked up. "Why nothing, dear—I just believe your peers do not understand your maturity, save perhaps for Artus, who by the way would not make a bad husband for you."

"'_Husband'?_" she choked, covering her mouth to stop her laughter. She glanced toward him, where he sat surrounded by such peers, most of whom were the prettiest girls in the keep. "Artus and me?" she croaked, shaking her head. "No, Father."

Neal frowned. "He is very protective of you, and a loyal friend."

"He's like a brother to me, and even if he was not, I could never marry _him_!" she insisted. "We haven't the feelings necessary for marriage!"

"But a solid friendship is a good place to start, much more reliable than feelings," he argued, his expression changing to concern as they watched Artus pull one of the girls onto his lap. This caused her to scream in delighted protest before she jumped up. The entire group raised shouts of approval as he winced. "On the other hand, perhaps you're right."

"Now you understand," she breathed in relief. "No, I must have a deep and abiding respect for whomever I marry, as well as passion, romance and friendship."

"At least you have your sights set high," he quipped. "Your mother and I enjoyed a wonderful marriage despite its being arranged."

"Your marriage was unusual, Father," she sighed, watching him get up. "I hope you will not pressure me, though I am already twenty and one."

"I would not, but others might," he warned, picking up his empty trencher. "I must get back to our patient—by now Thad will have worn him out with questions and he will need the rest.'

"Thad's a bright boy, but too in a hurry to grow up," she mused as he left her to stack it upon the pile by the kitchens. Remembering how her father's apprentice had plied Jared with questions about the Crusade, she realized that very few of them had been answered. Occasionally she had the opportunity to overhear a bit of what he did share of his past while she worked in the next room. It had been unconscionable, she knew, listening for any tidbits, yet she could not seem to help herself. Each day she became more and more curious about him, perhaps because he was so mysterious. Often she would find his gaze upon her when she would not have realized it was there. When meeting it with either smile or frown he would then look away as if to chastise himself. Such was not out of ordinary in the behavior of a knight, yet Jared was currently off service with plenty of time on his hands.

He did seem to enjoy exploring Father's library, reading late in to the night by her father's report. Daily he would make his way through the tunnels to the private chapel few attended, spending hours there. Upon his return he exercised his stiff leg, punishing his body with rigorous movements in an effort to strengthen it. All this left them with the impression that he was biding his time until Edward would return and take him into service. Once that occurred she doubted she would see him again, particularly in the position to which her father assumed Edward would place him. But as yet, no one truly knew what that would be, especially not Sir Jared.

"Perhaps you could bring dinner to us," Father added upon his return and before leaving the great hall. "After you've finished at the nursery," he stated, lifting a hand in farewell.

"I will," she promised, glancing toward the group surrounding Artus as they finished their meals. He looked up and caught her glance, smiling to her from across the hall as he winked good naturedly.

"It _is_ a pity you're so plain," Roanna whispered close, startling her. Aileen stiffened and got up, picking up her trencher and starting toward the kitchen to avoid her and her friends. Unfortunately they followed her, bent on some new mission to make her life miserable. "He does seem to value you as a friend, whatever the reason," she added, prompting a series of giggles from the others.

"Have you truly nothing better to do with your time?" Aileen asked with her most bored tone, stacking her plate upon the pile. She was not afraid of Roanna or her friends, though their delight in torturing her at every opportunity made her angry.

"Of course we do," she sang, flipping Aileen's braid up into the air before veering away toward Artus's table. "Come girls, leave her to her chores, unless she plans to do them dressed in _boy's_ clothes."

"That I _would_ relish seeing," Faith gushed.

"Maybe she really _is_ a boy, deep inside," Mona laughed, causing an eruption of mocking teases with which they left her.

"That would explain her lack of a suitor," Roanna pouted, waving her hand as they began to part ways.

Aileen turned to address Roanna as she walked away. "If you would speak to Artus directly he may be more inclined to notice you," she advised, stepping out into the corridor.

"Oh! What a rude prude you are!" she retorted, laughing at her own rhyme as she led the way toward Artus.

"I forgiiiive you!" Aileen called back over one shoulder as she took the route toward the nursery. "Pity you've nothing more interesting to do than your embroidery!"

_**Jared carefully maneuvered himself into the chair, **_slowly positioning his leg to one side before attempting to sit. This he accomplished with more ease than before, and Neal looked up from his preparations to congratulate him.

"You're doing well enough to try the cane tomorrow," he judged, turning back to his work.

"My feebleness continues to astound me," Jared admitted, feeling more irritated with himself than with Neal. Truly the man was the best physician he had ever encountered, and he'd met a few. "I must be getting old."

"Hah!" Neal laughed, glancing over one shoulder. "What are you Jared, a score and two?"

"A score and ten," he groaned, releasing his leg from where he'd moved it to be out of the way. "Though I feel older."

"You look younger than that," he was told. "Ever think of starting a family?"

Jared looked up, scowling at the memory of his stepmother's parties.

"It was not meant as an accusation," Neal said apologetically.

"I'm sorry," Jared sighed, shifting uncomfortably. _Where was Aileen?_ He had not seen her in days, and had to admit he missed her. At least she did not press him for details about his family or background, as her father did. He had decided it was all meant in friendliness, but he felt decidedly awkward alluding to his former life. "I have had many more pressing issues with which to deal."

"I understand," Neal stated, coming to the table to set it for dinner. "Arrange these, won't you?" he asked handing him the utensils and clean dishes. From where he sat Jared could see he'd been busy preparing a salad with greens and vegetables from their garden.

"I intend to marry when I am able," he explained as he did his bidding, foregoing any explanation of his waiting inheritance and its stipulation for marriage.

"No arranged marriages among the Cymri?" Neal asked casually, his back turned.

"There are those, but I prefer a wife of my own choosing."

"Very sensible."

"I must choose myself," Jared emphasized, looking up to meet Neal's questioning look. "Given my current circumstances, that is especially true."

Neal cleared his throat. "It is beyond my comprehension why there appears to be no contact from your family, unless somehow it was mislaid or delayed."

"It was not, I assure you," he said darkly, shaking his head. "Again, I find I must apologize—"

"Please do not," Neal said in frustration, going to the door to answer the knock. "I do not mean to pry; it is just that I fear you grow weary of our company and would likely favor that of your own—"

"On the contrary," Jared answered just as the door opened to reveal Aileen holding a large tray, "I am enjoying the company a great deal."

Her eyes found his and she paused, her face lighting with happiness as she relinquished the tray to her father's care. "You're up!" she breathed, grasping the latch.

Jared found himself almost smiling, so good was it to see her. When she smiled it made her eyes a warmer brown and her lips a darker rose in colour. "I am," he answered, bracing his hands upon the arms of his chair to get up.

"No! Don't get up for me!" she gasped, glancing at her father as Jared lowered himself again.

"Do come in," Neal suggested as he set the tray onto the table and met Jared's upturned gaze. "This is my daughter Aileen, in case you do may not recognize her."

"Father!" she scolded, shutting the door and coming toward them. "I am just so happy to see Jar—_Sir_ Jared sitting there, even if he is dressed in your old clothes!"

Jared glanced down at the billowing tunic he quickly tucked into the loose waistband. Thankfully she could not see the cut of fabric which accommodated his bandage. "At least I _am_ dressed," he muttered more to himself than anyone else. When she giggled in response he looked up.

"There are no guards either, Sir Jared—did you realize that?" she asked while pouring out their beverages.

"Please, Lady Aileen—do call me by my given name."

"Yes, _Jared_," she emphasized, dipping into a formal curtsy before helping set out the food. He watched her stack the covers back onto the empty tray. "I hope you like my choices."

"I'm sure we will both enjoy whatever you have brought us," Neal assured her.

Jared nodded soberly. "Yes, thank you, Lady—"

"_Aileen,_" she finished for him, reaching for the serving spoons and pushing them into the potatoes and vegetables. "I hope you like salmon—the cooks have a unique way of poaching it, serving it cold on warmer days."

"I do," he said, studying her covertly as she set the rest of the table. "Though I confess never having tasted it served in such a way."

They she sat down, joining him and both reaching for his hands. Aileen bowed her head while Jared curled his hand around hers, listening to Neal's pronouncement of a blessing over the food. This was their custom, apparently only just revealed to him. His own blessing he recited to himself while he felt Aileen begin to withdraw her hand. He looked up, into her puzzled gaze.

"You are not accustomed to saying grace?" she asked softly.

Jared looked to Neal, noting his disapproval at her question. "Aileen—"

"I am," he admitted, releasing her hand. _But not in the same way, or language._

"Forgive me," Neal apologized. "I didn't even think you might feel—"

"Please, don't concern yourselves," Jared insisted, lifting his trencher as Aileen gestured for him to do so. She plopped a very large mound of potatoes onto it, as well as a generous serving of vegetables. "It has, however, been a long time…"

"We wish for you to feel at ease," Neal stated, nodding yes to the salmon. "We even hope you might someday consider this your second home, Jared."

Not knowing what to say, he silently thanked Aileen for smoothing over the awkward moment with plopping a large serving of salmon onto his trencher. "If you'd like more, just speak up," she said quietly.

He waited for her to seat herself before starting, unlike her father who began to eat with gusto. He watched covertly as she sat down, flicking her hair back over one shoulder. The sun caught its gold and auburn highlights, also revealing gold flecks in her brown eyes never before noticed. She looked up and smiled, holding his gaze a bit longer than he had expected.

Neal gestured to him to begin, which he did. They ate while enjoying snatches of conversation, and Jared began to relax in their company. He realized how he had missed the simple pleasure of a shared meal, especially one without the strife to which he was accustomed.

"Everything is delicious," he commented after only a few bites.

Neal swallowed and studied his expression a moment. "This seems to be a common reaction," he said to Aileen, "heightened sense of taste after difficult injury or illness."

She swallowed, looking at Jared. "Father, we mustn't study him as if he were a specimen," she ended with a soft giggle. "Forgive us," she pleaded, to which he nodded.

"It is puzzling," he admitted. "I do seem to have a more heightened appreciation than before."

"As if you've been brought back to life," Neal supplied before leaning over to pick up the napkin which had slipped to the floor.

Aileen's eyes met his and she smiled but looked away. Jared glanced toward her hands, so graceful and feminine as she ate in his presence. He had noted no wedding band upon her finger, but for the first time considered the possibility that she might already be claimed. The thought dampened his spirits unpredictably.

"Are you in pain, Jared?" Neal asked when Aileen got up to retrieve something.

He looked up, feeling some pain but more disappointment, though he knew it was unfounded. "A bit," he admitted.

"You're still weak—it will take time, and we must be patient."

Aileen came back, her smile bright."Would you like to finish outside?" she proposed, eyeing them both. "It is so lovely outside, and much cooler. I could ready the table in a moment."

Neal glanced at him. "Would that be agreeable Jared?"

He nodded. "Fine." Yet the prospect of getting up in Aileen's presence bothered him. It did not matter that she had found him in much worse condition and tended him all these days; he didn't want her to see how weak and clumsy he still was. To his great relief she stepped to the doors and opened them with a flourish.

"Just give me a moment to tidy up," she announced before disappearing outside.

Jared glanced at Neal, catching the assessing manner in which he studied him. Jared sensed that he was aware of the undercurrent of interest they shared, yet he said nothing. Grasping the arms of his chair, he slowly got up.

"I didn't want her to witness this," he admitted, trying not to resent the way Neal stood by.

"I thought as much, but she solved the problem for you, didn't she?" he chuckled.

"Indeed she has," he stated, planting the crutches beneath his arms. They caused even more pain to his already sore existence, but he was glad for the opportunity to be up and about.

"After dessert I am going to see about that cane," Neal promised, standing back as he started toward the door.

"All is readied!" Aileen called from out in the garden, and Jared entered the garden feeling considerably more hopeful.

_c. 2008 by Christine Levitt_


	3. Chapter 3 The Sentry

_**Chapter 3 The Sentry**_

A gust of cold air stung his eyes, blurring his vision. Blinking to clear the moisture, Jared swept a vigilant gaze over the moonlit landscape far below. The fields glistened white, glazed from the rain which had frozen over the older fallen snow. Set against the foreboding darkness of the forests they shone bright beneath the scudding white clouds. The wind died down and nothing stirred, giving one the impression that there was nothing amiss. But he sensed that all was not right, as surely as if he could see and name the being lurking beyond the realm of the senses. Despite this he turned and calmly paced the length of the battlement, shrugging off a shiver of cold. His watch was nearly spent and he longed for the warmth and rest of his quarters. Frustrated and exhausted from another double shift, he wondered how Mellen hoped to advance his position, having shrugged off his duty yet again.

_Tis the last time I cover your back,_ he vowed, scanning the opposite side of the wall to be sure that Rory was alert at his watch. Off in the distance he watched the man's shadow slide along the stones before him and turned his attention back to his own post, continuing on toward the opposite end of the parapet only to retrace his steps again and again.

This was Edward's idea, placing him on duty here after he refused the train English foot soldiers to someday war against his own people. It had proven a fit punishment he had to admit, working for Edward. Thrusting his cold hands deep into his coat he tugged it closer at the front to stave off the cold gusts. Gazing out toward the forest provided him ample opportunity to be reminded of the place where he had fallen and lay abandoned by his own. Three months had seemed like years until he had learned to walk again without a cane. Three more months of guard duty produced no efforts on his behalf for a ransom, and until Father provided it he faced a life upon and within these walls, a life of exile among his enemies.

"Enemies," he whispered, narrowing his gaze at the notch in the distant range, "now there's a thought."

Unaware of the cynical smile tilting one corner of his mouth, he considered the irony of his situation. This continual pacing for an English king by someone of his background was ludicrous, no doubt. His training and experience in combat which secured him a high rank in the legion of crusaders now mocked him, as did his dishonorable discharge. But the risk he'd taken had been worth it, and he counted honor a fleeting blessing measured against the saving of lives. And now back and forth he marched over the rough hewn floor, keeping watch for his new overlord. Every night he suffered the stern lecture of the chief guard, charging him to report any suspicious activity as if he had somehow forgotten his responsibilities since his last shift. It was too easy a task which required little thought, just keen eyes and a sensitive spirit. And unfortunately it gave him far too much time to think.

Off in the distance he heard a howl, so bloodcurdling that it caught him by surprise. His heel caught on an uneven spot, shooting pain up his leg though he forced himself to continue with his eyes narrowing toward the direction from which it had come. Gritting his teeth and determining to recover full use of his leg he paused at the base of the barbican tower to stare out, yet seeing nothing. Massaging his thigh, he continued on his way as before, though perhaps a bit more alert despite his exhaustion.

He thought back to the warmth of summer, the last time he had seen Neal and Aileen Carrick. It was true that from time to time he caught a glance of them, but separately and from a great distance. Wondering if perhaps Edward had discouraged any further contact, he submitted to that decision and decided it was for the better. They had tended his wounds with skill and consideration fit for a noble, despite the fact that he was nothing more than a prisoner. Their excellent medicinal and rehabilitative advice, nourishing meals and intelligent discussions had all been freely shared, and at least for his part freely enjoyed. Yet once Edward returned and he was declared fit for light duty he'd been snatched away and placed here to serve. And that was what he must do.

Despite this he found he missed them more than he knew he should. He often wondered how they both fared, attributing his loneliness to never having enjoyed anything which might resemble a real family until his time spent with them. Approaching the tower once again he considered Edward's latest proposition more carefully, tempted for a change and wondering if perhaps it might be good for him to put his mind to better use. Whether he was getting too old or too frustrated with his sentry duty, he decided to agree to it, though it would mean extensive travel and much more danger. Still, it would place him once again in the position he felt destined to be in, whether he liked it or not.

Throwing back his head to gaze up at the stars, he took a moment to meditate upon something which had confirmed the fact to him late one sleepless night. The verses he had studied now whispered through his mind, nagging him with questions as to the reason he'd been spared time and time again. There was the difficult upbringing and loss of his mother at a young age, the horrors of war and finally injury and rehabilitation. Before his journey to the Holy Land he had not been convinced of the meaning of destiny, yet since then it seemed to confront him with its reality. Now, surrounded by the beauty of the night he considered the subject as he scanned the perimeter of his watch again, praying and seeking a confirmation of his decision. After some time the wind died down, and at the same time he felt a sense of having settled the matter. On the morrow he would answer Edward's summons to his new position.

A flash of movement near the stairwell caught his eye and he stiffened in alarm, glancing toward Rory's position but failing to see him. In scrutinizing the area adjacent to the stairs he saw a darkly cloaked figure pass by the scaffolding piled there, moving at a slow pace. Staring hard, he measured its size and movement, noting the gesture of readjusting hood and cloak before stopping by the wall. Suddenly he knew who it was, and an expectant thrill shot through him, piercing him in the heart. Although he knew he should not do so, he began to slowly approach the place.

They had said she came up here from time to time, but that as with other visitors no one was to interfere while she lingered, save for threat of harm. The rules were the same for all visitors: allow opportunity yet keep your distance for privacy's sake. Should anyone need escort to their quarters by the change in guard, a sentry was to provide it. Only on two occasions had he caught a couple in the throes of passion, necessitating interference. Yet to his surprise all it had taken to discourage the act was to clear one's throat and gently warn them to return below. Tonight the hour was late, and by the distant sounds of the festivities belowstairs everyone would soon be retiring for the night, leaving cleanup till morning. She would not be long, he sensed, watching her stroll along Rory's wall and nodding to him as they passed. Jared saw a flash of fabric when her cloak parted, revealing a glimpse of fine dark satin. She was in evening clothes from having attended the ball, yet here she was, all alone. He followed at a distance, watching Rory enter the tower for a break. As she moved around the far end of the walk and came onto his side he moved to intercept her, knowing he might never have the opportunity again.

_**The sentries know I'm here, **_she reassured herself,__appreciating their keeping their distance despite her invading their realm. They were Edward's most capable and trustworthy men, and she had nothing to fear. One glance toward the distant one who remained in sight revealed his nod of silent approval as he let her know he was here to protect her safety. Pausing at the opposite end of his walk she leaned her arms upon the wall with a tight sigh, hoping to have a bit of time to collect herself before going back down. Here the night was more pleasant, well lit by moon and starlight though cold. She planned on enjoying it while she could, if only for a few moments. The fresh air soothed her flushed face and began to restore her peace. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath as the tensions of society began to fade away.

"It's not wise to come here at this hour, milady," a deep voice said just above a whisper.

Startled, she teetered sideways in her new shoes as he grasped her arm to steady her. Gazing up at him, she was forced to tilt her head back in order to do so. Regaining her balance outwardly, she stared in surprise as she recognized him, her insides beginning to tremble yet again.

"Jared?" she gasped, gripping his arm more in excitement than for balance.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he soothed, his voice soft.

It had been months since she'd last seen him, much to her regret. Father had informed her that he'd been quartered with the soldiers until he was able to walk well enough for light service. She had assumed he would have been assigned duty elsewhere, with the other soldiers, yet here he was looking fit and much taller than she had remembered. Feasting her eyes upon his shadowed features she realized that if he had been here all these months he had certainly kept his distance during her two visits. Yet even more importantly, he had not told her father that she came here.

"But I must come here," she explained, flustered by his nearness. In that moment he seemed to realize that he still held her arm and abruptly released it, taking a step backward. "You should understand that," she urged, not wanting him to leave her alone though she knew it was his duty.

He glanced away, his eyes scanning the horizon with an intensity that was solely his. "I speak of your safety," he clarified. "My understanding matters not."

"To whom?" she said before thinking, drawing his attention back to her face. Grateful for the bright moonlight, she watched his eyes duel with hers before he turned his head away. She studied his profile, irritated by the way he'd spoken of himself. From what little she knew about him, his thoughts and opinions were of great consequence.

"You do understand," she insisted, too aware of his power to banish her from this place forever. This was his domain, she reminded herself, at least while he was on watch.

At that he looked at her again, his expression twisted with what seemed to be regret. "I understand your need for quiet, and privacy," he sighed. "Particularly in times sadly lacking in both."

Greatly relieved that he had admitted it, she gazed up at him hopefully. "Then you will say nothing?"

His lips pursed in frustration as he seemed to consider this. "I will say that you must take heed—come here by light of day," he advised, gazing down at her again. "This hour is for darker pursuits."

She pulled her wrap close in the breeze, not surprised by the bitterness in his tone. Lifting her chin, she dared to look away, out toward the horizon where he had gazed. "Remembering need not be a dark pursuit," she dared to reply, though she was not daring enough to look him in the eye. At her side she sensed him stiffen, even though he stood a pace apart from her.

Realizing she'd been too bold she turned to apologize when suddenly he grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the wall. "Get down!" he commanded in a whisper, releasing her arm but pressing a hand against her back.

She gripped his coat to avoid falling as he shielded her with his body. "Don't be angry—" she whispered, worried at his stern gaze.

"Down!" he hissed, pushing her down into a crouching position. A second later something streaked over their heads with a whoosh of air and a blaze of light.

Fear tore up her throat just as his hand covered her mouth. She gripped his waist as he pulled into a shielding embrace. Another arrow flew just over their heads, striking the tower and falling to the stones. She watched in disbelief as the flame consuming it began to die.

Jared's face appeared close, his expression requesting her silence. She nodded her consent as he removed his hand.

"Stay here," he whispered, glancing toward the other side of the roof. "I'll be right back," he added, moving away.

She watched him go after and retrieve the arrows, wondering at the curious study with which he seemed to examine them. He glanced toward the other guard's post, broke them in half and tossed them into the refuse bin. Then he stuffed something into his back pocket and started back toward her.

_Why didn't he keep them as evidence?_ she wondered, watching him move stiffly toward her in a crouching position, still favoring his leg. They heard the other guard's steps scuffling down the tower stairs and watched him stroll back out onto the parapet, moving silently back to his position. Apparently he had not seen the arrows, which caused her to wonder at his competence as a sentry. Jared came back to her side, took her arm and guided her toward the descent tower. Once inside, he pulled her up to a standing position, backing into the enclosure of the tower as he leaned to glance out, his hands gripping her upper arms.

She stared up at him in awe, feeling cherished and protected. "You saved my life…"

His head turned abruptly toward her as he bent closer. "What just happened must not be told," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear and sending shivers down her neck. They were not shivers from the cold, she realized distractedly. Inhaling the scent of evergreen and the outdoors, she caught an undertone of the warmth of his skin and realized how close they were standing. And she still gripped the front of his coat.

"Why?" she demanded in a whisper, tugging his lapels. "What if more danger ensues—"

"It will not—it was a message," he panted, "nothing more."

"A message for you," she clarified, loosening her grip on him.

He frowned, gently released her and stepped away. "I ask for your silence," he whispered, his eyes holding hers, "and your trust."

She held his gaze. "I trust you," she whispered back. _Everyone trusts you, Jared._

He looked away. "As you have seen, it is not safe up here."

"But you protected me—"

"It is my duty—"

"And now we are even."

He gazed at her, his lips parted slightly and his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "'Even?'"

She nodded. "I helped you, and now you've saved my life," she whispered, lifting her hood back up to cover her hair. She noticed that his eyes followed her every gesture. "That makes us even."

He pursed his lips. "Promise me that you will not return here—"

"I won't say anything," she begged. "I didn't when I saw how the men you rode here with treated you."

He stared at her in shock, his expression twisted with pain. "What did you see?" he demanded softly.

She approached him, gripping his forearm. "I saw your horse fall, pinning your leg," she whispered. Beneath her touch she could feel the hardened muscles of his arm. "They came back and argued whether or not to take you with them, and then one of them—"

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I never had the chance!" she defended, worried by his foreboding expression. "You were too ill at first—"

"All that matters now is your safety." he stated, taking her hand from his arm.

"But he kicked you while you were lying so still and bleeding—" she gasped, clutching his sleeve.

"Please, Aileen—"

"He broke your ribs!" she hissed, gripping his cloak as he turned away. "What kind of a friend would do that?"

"Promise me you won't come up," he insisted.

"All right!" she hissed, releasing him. "I won't come here at night anymore unless you escort me!"

"Good," he replied, choosing to ignore her dare. "Now return to your quarters—"

"Nor will I say anything about the arrows, though I am tempted to report the incident!"

He stared at her as if suddenly realizing what he was asking her to do. Shaking his head, he stared at her in surprise. "Why wouldn't you?" he breathed. "You know nothing about me."

"Neither does Edward nor Father, but they trust you."

"That is different—"

"And _friends _trust each other, Jared."

He seemed to struggle with something before turning away. Glancing outside the enclosure, he checked their surroundings before leading her toward the stairs. There he took her shoulders in his hands and bent closer.

"I need to know exactly what you saw and heard that day," he whispered, gripping her tight, "it's very important."

"We cannot talk here—"

"Rory won't be coming for a moment—please, Aileen."

She studied his expression a moment. "They argued about you, those men—"

"They were my brothers," he said darkly, holding her gaze.

She felt tears well up in her eyes but continued. "I couldn't understand your language or see their faces because of the helms…but the youngest one cried to take you. He begged them, but the leader, the one who kicked you said no. One of them, who had red hair hanging below his helm, pleaded for you, but to no avail."

"And the other?"

"He seemed eager to leave, for fear of being caught. He rode off first, alone."

"Where were you, and did they see you?"

She shook her head. "I was hidden in the thick brush just above the ledge. They could not have seen me."

"What were you doing out there, alone in the forest?"

"Gathering herbs for our medicinals, and please don't lecture me about that—I have paid for it ever since."

He closed his eyes, a frustrated sigh bursting from him. She gripped his arms. "They were your _brothers_?"

He looked up. "Half-brothers…had I know this earlier—"

"As soon as I knew they had left I ran to you, and unlaced your helm—"

"I remember."

She stared at him. "You do?"

He nodded. "I thought you were a boy…a twin brother to the young woman who I found nursing me later."

"That is my protection, to disguise myself as a boy."

"I see."

"It was Artus who set your leg—he's my friend, and was captain of the guard that day."

He nodded. "I am familiar with him."

"Just after Edward returned he ordered that Father and I have no further contact with you," she tried to explain. "I was even placed in Elinor's court for a time, yet each trip back I tried to find you, to no avail."

He glanced away and she saw a nerve pulse in his cheek. "I was also ordered to keep my distance," he told her.

"But why? Father and I wished to see you, and to make sure your recovery was complete."

He turned to look at her, his gaze traveling over her features. "I think you know the reason."

"Punishment?"

He straightened and dropped his hands to his sides. "You should return belowstairs," he hinted.

"But have you nothing to tell _me_?" she dared to ask.

He studied her a moment, finally nodding. "In time," he admitted, taking her arm and leading her down to the first landing. There he stopped and released her. She turned to face him.

"I hope you find out why," she said quietly, lifting her hem.

He nodded, glancing down at her satin slippers. "Watch your step," he cautioned softly.

_**That was the last time she'd seen him, Aileen thought irritably **_as she strode through the meadow of wildflowers, completely oblivious to their vivid colors and sweet fragrance. Her boy's chausses afforded her considerably more freedom of movement, yet she felt trapped in spirit and longing to be free.

"I need more than this!" she grumbled under her breath, pulling up a stalk of grass to chew as she marched onward toward the forest. "I want to be taken _seriously_, as Father treats me! No, I want even more than that—I want to be treated the way Jared treated me that last night!"

Glancing down at Artus's old clothes she felt suddenly ashamed for this her one bad habit. She remembered how hard she had worked that night to dress up for the ball in her finest gown, though she doubted Jared had even noticed it. Lifting her chin she blew out a sigh of frustration, lifting a tendril of her hair which had escaped the confines of her cap. Glancing around her for as far as she could see, she recalled how vast this meadow looked from high above on the battlements. There Jared had been posted until once again being reassigned.

By her father's report he'd been promoted to chief negotiator over the Marches, the lands to the western border of Edward's kingdom. It was an unusual promotion, one which had generated a great deal of dissention and gossip. Thankfully, as time passed and his success there realized, most of the talk had died down. Father considered the assignment a particularly harsh action on Edward's part, taking advantage of the fact that no ransom for Jared's release had come forth. No one knew what that meant, yet she had the feeling that those who'd left him behind must have reported a different fate to his family. Surely he was considered dead, which explained their failure to seek his release. And now Edward was tempting him with the freedom he surely longed for, directing him to patrol the lowland borders of his own country in a dangerously disputed area. There was opportunity, however, for him to have easily made his escape, yet for some reason he had not.

Stomping over a small ravine she frowned, admitting that she missed him more than she could have imagined. He was mature, compelling and attractive, and even given that she found it easy to talk to him. He was a god listener, she had to admit, and the way he studied her while she spoke made her think he valued her as a person, unlike other men to whom she had been subjected. Her time in Elinor's court had been meant to train her as a lady, for which she still suspected Father of cooperating with. Of late he had urged her to find a suitor and get married, warning that he would not be around forever to care for her. Despite her protests this had escalated into a humiliating stint during one of Elinor's visits here, yet thankfully her visits were infrequent and blessedly short lived. But the word had gone out that she must enter into society and accept bids for her hand. The entire matter made her only want to dress in this very outfit and run far away.

Having reached the edge of the forest she dropped to her knees, immediately busying herself with digging and gathering what was needed, Thad having already changed his mind about becoming Father's apprentice. Thanks to Jared, he had announced his desire to enter training and now served as page to one of Artus's friends. Once again her thoughts focused upon the subject which often distracted her at the strangest times, such as when she was caring for a baby or couldn't sleep at night, and especially when enduring the caustic scorn of her peers.

_Oh Jared…where are you?_

Annoyed with her preoccupation concerning him, she got up and brushed the moss and dirt from her borrowed clothes and fastened her bag. It was full and she hadn't much time to return before she was missed. Preferring rather to linger here and enjoy being out of doors, she nevertheless started back. She glanced up and almost pictured herself in her gown, standing in the stair tower with Jared as they spoke privately. Knowing he would scorn her sympathy, she could not however help but feel compassion for him. Yet there was nothing she could do for him now, and it seemed that she must accept the fact that he had slipped away from her life forever. With that thought she felt an even greater weight of dissatisfaction smother her.

_**Tossing down his gloves and pulling off his cloak, Jared stretched his sore back **_and slowly lowered himself to his cot. Gazing out at the rain through the half-opened flap of the tent, he felt exhausted and chilled yet too tired to move. The weather had soured from mists to rain, four days of it. He couldn't remember when he last saw the light of the sun. To make matters worse nothing had been accomplished today, not when only two representatives of the weakest tribes bothered to make the effort to appear.

With a sigh he bent over to unlace his muddy boots and peel off his sodden stockings. He couldn't blame them, to be honest, not considering the weather. Straightening, he passed a hand over his stubble and studied the Spartan furnishings of what he now called home, at least for the past month. He closed his eyes, imagining what it would feel like to have a real home and be sitting before a real fire rather than shivering next to a tiny cooking fire. Feeling the weight of his circumstances more intensely than usual, he evaluated the prospects for success laid before him. There were centuries-old animosities to be overcome, and even worse many resented his position as Edward's representative.

_Traitor—_their taunts still burned in his memory, stirring his ire though he continually prayed and battled against it. So many unresolved issues stood between a shaky peace and these warring factions of his people. Gazing back out at the rising mists, it seemed as if the place was haunted with ghosts of the past. They scorned Edward's vision for a new unity for the greater good. For the first time he forced himself to admit the possibility of defeat unless he chose the less damaging route—the need for a break.

That decided, he spread his hand down his mangled calf, massaging its tight and stiff muscles which seemed to ache more so in the damp and cold. His mind drifted toward the arguments marking his first series of negotiations, when he had lost two days of valuable time struggling to establish some amount of credibility in order to begin earning win their trust. Somehow by the third day they sensed he would not be leaving of his own free will. He had survived their various attempts at eviction and by now had worn them down. Several talks had ensued, and though he sensed it was time to break, he had a plan outlined that was sniffed at instead of being torn from his hands and cast into the mud. That, he considered, had been a major breakthrough.

Reaching toward his table he opened the ledger to make his daily report, knowing that upon his return it would take hours to review and prepare his extensive notes to formulate a report worthy of presenting to Edward. If considered adequate he had then to present it to the other negotiators and advisers and await their executive decision, yet he wondered how men sitting in the comfort of the castle could understand the reality in which his people had been living. Because this was the final entry he spent an hour on it before slowly getting to his feet. By now the rain slapped his meager shelter with growing intensity, inciting a shiver up his spine before he bent to add wood to the fire.

Gazing around the tent he summoned the will to pack the remainder of his things for the journey back. Ben was already sound asleep in his tent, resting up for the long day's travel before reaching the keep. A fortnight of briefings awaited him, and then he must train for the last tournament of the season and prepare himself for all its associated social events, at least the ones he could not find a way to escape.

Slowly unfastening his chausses he pulled them off and quickly changed into dry clothing. While doing so he prepared a defense to Edward in hopes of excusing himself from the socials awaiting him. He was an ambassador working within a confidential framework, and he must maintain a low profile in society. Having worked long into each night he needed time to rest and recuperate, as well as to peruse the documents necessary for framing the treaties. He had neither the will nor the energy for polite conversations, entertaining foolish vague notions of politics, dancing or the matchmaking efforts of Queen Elinor. All he wanted to do was hike the woods and enjoy some solitude, perhaps fish in the river and ride the horse kept in the stables for his leisure.

Lying back with his hands beneath his head he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the ache in his leg and dreaming of his quarters back home. _Home_—opening his eyes he realized his error. Shrewsbury was not his home, and he forced himself to take a hard look around his tent. This was his only home, he realized. Yet as he imagined the chieftains of his people residing in these hills and beyond he put himself in their position, imagining sitting before his own fire with his own family. In truth, it was family which made one's home, was it not?

With sinking spirits he admitted his need for home and family, especially given the betrayal by his own brothers and apparently his own father. Choosing not to dwell upon that fact he focused upon the concept of home, deciding that it was a place where at the very least someone noticed if you were there or not. Closing his eyes again, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to his reasonably comfortable quarters at Shrewsbury…but who would miss him there—Edward, his fellow guardsmen, or at the most, perhaps Neal and Aileen?

_Aileen…_

He heard her voice in his memory, his thoughts returning to that last time he'd seen her on the parapet. Beginning to feel something close to comfort, he became more drowsy and relaxed as he thought of her, as if owning a private treasure trove of memories of her which he opened and examined whenever he was tired and lonely. He remembered her saying that she considered them friends, though he thought her more than a friend. God help him, he thought far too much concerning her. It would never be allowed, if discovered. Yet as he sighed and nestled his head against the crude pillow he could not seem to help himself.

_**Shifting Jeremy's weight higher upon her hip **_Aileen passed the garden where they were embroidering in its cool shade. The day was hot and uncomfortably damp, dragging the weight of her skirts lower and showing the damp places beneath her arms and between her breasts. Just last week Father had discovered her boy's clothing and forced her to give everything back to Artus's mother, lecturing her on how she was a young woman now and in need of finding a proper husband to get on with her life. To make things worse, he had prohibited her from gathering herbs, assigning that task to one of the pages in training in order to replace Thad. She thought dejectedly of how long it had taken both of them to train him to distinguish even the simplest plants, and now he was free to spend as much time as he desired searching for them.

She instead had taken over the care of the children, which was why she had Jeremy. Hugging him close as they left the bailey together, she spoke softly to him and tickled his tummy in an effort to see his radiant smile. It was a joy, she decided, caring for the sick and orphaned children, especially taking them on short outings to teach them the beauty of the outdoors. This was her most enjoyable task, and she stared off into the distance to where the river wound through the meadows, its overarching willows swaying and beckoning them with their shade.

"Aileen!" someone called, causing her to glance over her shoulder and slow her steps. Serena was following her, waving and laughing as she tried to catch up. Hiking Jeremy higher, she waited for her to catch up, not sure why the newly arrived girl sought her company.

"Remember me?" she breathed, coming to Aileen's side fanning herself and trying to catch her breath.

Jeremy wined to be put down, which she did but kept hold of his chubby hand. "Of course I remember you," she stated, glancing up at the huge globe of the sun. "What brings you out here?"

"I wanted to see where you were going," Serena admitted, bending to kiss Jeremy's cheek. "He is adorable!"

"We're going to the stream—he likes to splash in the water, and I thought it might cool us off; come along, if you'd like."

Serena straightened, bracing a hand over her eyes as she gazed out across the meadow. "There's a stream? I don't see it."

Aileen pointed. "See that stand of willows? It runs just beyond them."

"That sounds wonderful, but Mother did tell me to stay in the garden."

Aileen stared at her a moment, a smile curving her lips. She leaned closer to whisper, "you're not in the garden."

Serena smiled wickedly. "No, I'm not."

Aileen picked Jeremy up and started off, glancing back. "They'll make fun of you, for talking to me."

Serena followed, shrugging her shoulders. "They make fun of everything and everybody. Sometimes I can hardly stand it!"

Aileen smiled. "Maybe we can go another time, although you might want to wear an older gown."

Serena patted Jeremy's head. "I'd like that."

Aileen felt suddenly inspired, now that she had someone to talk to. "Some of the engaged couples go there to be alone," she said, glancing at Serena. "When they think no one notices..."

"Really?" Serena whispered with glee. "You've seen them?"

"Yes, but they don't pay any attention to me," she replied, hugging the boy. "That is because I take Jeremy."

"Your mother lets you, then?"

Aileen shook her head. "My mother died when I was eight, but Father lets me do at least that; he doesn't know any better."

"Serena!" the women called, gesturing to her to come back. She turned halfway to wave but kept walking. "I'm sorry about your mother—I have to go now, but let me know when you plan to go again. I would like to come along, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, and it's more interesting than practicing embroidery."

"All right, I will see you then."

_**Serena watched Aileen make her way toward the willows with a sigh of regret. **_As she approached the garden the others studied her in silence, then one of them spoke up as soon as she sat down with them.

"_She_ has to take care of the children—her father is the physician," Natalie explained. "My family thinks he is the best surgeon anywhere."

"She's queer, though," Melanie interjected, stretching her neck to gaze after the girl everyone thought strange. "Probably because she's never had a mother to teach her how to behave properly."

"They say her mother was a witch—" Celesta breathed. "That's why she has the healing powers."

Roanna sighed dramatically, eyeing Serena. "It's good for her to tend the little ones, for she'll never have any of her own…"

Serena put her embroidery down. "Why would you say that?"

Roanna shrugged. "She's already twenty and one and never made her debut—she has no prospects for marriage whatsoever."

"She is friendly with Sir Artus," Celesta sighed dreamily. "He's so handsome."

"Only because they grew up together," Natalie said icily.

"I heard that she stole some of his old clothing and disguised herself to go about as she pleased, until her Father found out," Roanna snickered.

Serena frowned. "I think she's interesting and brave—I wish I had the nerve to do that."

"Be careful around her," Roanna warned. "You don't want to damage your reputation."

"Aileen is pretty, and I believe she is capable of finding a husband herself, without having to debut," she defended. "Wouldn't that be wonderful to be like that, instead of suffering the choices and preferences of our guardians?"

"You're such a child, Serena," Roanna argued. "In this court everyone must debut—Lady Elinor insists upon it. She will be watching you, so stay away from that one."

_**Aileen could just imagine what they were saying about her **_behind her back. She muttered her frustration to Jeremy's ears alone as she held him just above the water. He dangled his toes along the cool surface, giggling with delight.

"They think they know everything!" she complained, groaning when a few couples drew near the adjacent willows. "But when it comes time for them to bear children they won't know the first thing to do, will they?" she stated, kissing Jeremy's soft head. "Then again, they probably won't even bother. They'll just get wet nurses or maids to wait on them. Their children will grow up never even knowing them. That's not for us, is it, Jeremy?"

He splashed his toes and kicked while she raised and lowered him into the water to his ankles. He laughed and laughed while she indulged him until he tired. Now that they were both damp she carried him to the blanket spread upon the grass beneath the shade. His skin was flushed so she took off his shirt and pulled down the top of her bliaut. Her bodice and hem were wet from his splashing, but it felt wonderfully cool and uninhibited to do so.

"I _will _get married one day," she assured him, "and when I have a little boy I want him to be just like you!" When his little arms circled her neck she hugged him close, thinking that nothing felt so wonderful. By now her temper had cooled considerably and she gazed toward the bailey thinking of Serena. In a way she felt sorry for the other young women—many of them would go on to live empty lives of predictable comfort, which unfortunately they seemed to prefer to anything new or unusual.

Gently laying Jeremy down to change his diaper, she heard the men and women in the grove, glancing in their direction to see that they were spreading their mid-meal upon a blanket for a picnic. She turned and lifted Jeremy to her lap, feeding him pieces of fruit and trencher bread. She heard Artus's voice and looked around, noting that his back was to her and he seemed preoccupied with entertaining the ladies. Jeremy finished and sighed tiredly, and she put him down on the blanket and rubbed his back until he drifted to sleep. Leaning back on her hands she turned her head to watch the group, content not to be among them.

They were playing a game of charades, she realized, acting out silent messages to each other. She wondered how that could be entertaining when it was much more enjoyable to engage in lively conversation. She didn't have much use for playing games now that she was no longer a child, nor did she like pretending. Keeping silent was not easy for her either, for Father had raised her to speak her mind, which often seemed to get her into trouble.

As she watched the game grew more daring, for the women teased the men mercilessly and to her surprise they seemed to enjoy it. Remembering her time at court she had been encouraged to learn this fine art to effectively participate in society, the ultimate goal being to engage a husband. Finding the entire structure false and unnatural, she knew she couldn't bring herself to do it without feeling like a hypocrite.

Artus was their next victim, she noted, and a willing one indeed. She watched as one flirtatious blonde pushed him back against a tree trunk and pressed against him, causing a shout of laughter from the men and giggles from the women. She was apparently his conqueror, Aileen guessed, feeling a protest nearly burst from her lips when he put a hand to his heart and bowed in submission. She snorted in distaste, wondering if she should mention to him how ridiculous he looked. He was that good a friend, and would not be offended by her stating the truth. She remembered the days when they had long talks about life and how they would grow up more intelligently, yet here he was doing the same things he'd once disdained. Turning away to gaze off across the field, she decided that it was better not being like everyone else, not if she had to act accordingly. And there would certainly be no proper fiancé for her in such a group, of that she was sure.

Drawing her knees up under her chin, she draped her damp skirts over them to dry. It was just too hot for modesty, and no one was looking at her anyway. She heard the merriment continue as she gazed down at the sleeping Jeremy and signed in resignation. After some time she turned her attention back to the adults, spying Artus and the blonde. He looked smitten, she feared, watching the way the woman traced a finger along his arm. He looked deeply into her eyes and laughed instead of smacking that hand, as she felt like doing. He belittled himself, she decided, remembering the training at court she had endured. If courting was so predictable, what was the attraction in capturing a man like spoils? How far must one venture, she mused, before a tease became a flirtation and then a seduction? One was supposed to discern that yet with little experience, and there were no teachers available to discuss the subject.

Jeremy stirred slightly, distracting her. In the cool shade he smiled and curled into her steadying hand. If only relationships were this simple, she thought with a sigh as he settled back to sleep. Glancing back, she noted that two other men had joined the group. They stood a bit apart, the taller one standing with his back to her so that she could not identify him. Next to him was a shorter man she did not recognize either, yet they caught Artus's attention and he looked up at them, shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed up at them. The taller man stepped forward to extend him a hand in greeting, which Artus took and found himself pulled to his feet. Aileen watched them embrace, wondering who this friend of his was, and when he began to turn she gasped in shock. He nodded briefly to Artus, and Aileen covered her mouth with her hand.

_Jared! He was back!_

Even more shocking was the sound of his laughter carrying across the field toward her and startling the others members of the group. Some stared at him wide-eyed and open mouthed, others listened intently before they laughed good-naturedly at something he said. It was clear that none of them had expected him to have a sense of humour, and she found herself guilty of the same judgment. Then again, what reason had he to laugh?

She lifted her hand to push away the damp hair along her cheek, staring at him and wondering why he was mingling with the others. They were not only younger than he, but held a far lower status particularly since he'd been so promoted. Leaning forward, she gripped her legs beneath her gown and watched in silent expectation. _What would he do?_ Surely not join their game of charades or flirt—he was far too serious for those pursuits. The sound of his laughter had seemed genuine, but ended abruptly as the blonde woman placed her hand on his arm and smiled seductively at him. He glanced away, gently tugging his arm from her grasp.

Aileen found that like the others she could not take her eyes off him. She wondered what that woman had said to him. No one to her knowledge had ever seen him with a woman, yet somehow Aileen sensed that he would know how to handle one given the absence of pretense and silliness. The blonde pouted prettily and linked her arm through Artus's while Jared joined in conversation with the man who had arrived with him. Aileen decided it must be the squire assigned to aid Jared in his position. Feeling both relieved and disappointed, she hoped that at some other time she might witness his behavior with women, for it would no doubt be an interesting study. As she watched the others shrug and turn back to their frivolity it was clear to all that not only was he back but he was his usual self once again—all business and no pleasure.

Jeremy stirred and rubbed his eyes, cranky to have been disturbed. She decided it was time to go and quickly gathered their things into her bag. Leaning over him to coax him awake, she pulled her legs beneath her and lifted him to her shoulder. He would finish his nap inside, for he was accustomed to napping a few hours each afternoon. He gripped her neck and dropped his head to her shoulder as she got up, and with silent determination she started toward the keep, Jeremy felt heavy in her arms but it was mostly due to the oppressive head of the day. She trudged wearily over the uneven ground, her eyes set upon the dark entrance promising cool and blessed relief.


	4. Chapter 4 The Reunion

_**Chapter 4 The Reunion**_

_**Jared bid Artus farewell, immediately turning his attention back to Aileen.**_ He'd spied her off in the distance as soon as he'd arrived, wondering if perhaps she thought herself hidden beneath the willows. She was watching them, he knew, and it troubled him that no one had invited her to join them. Was it because she had the child with her again? He'd seen her with the boy another time, months ago when he rode in from the Marches for a brief meeting with Edward. She had passed along the opposite side of the great hall and hadn't seen him, but he had paused briefly on his way to meet with Edward to watch her carry the boy while she packed up food. A group of three other women followed and laughed at her, and he'd wanted to intervene but could not keep Edward waiting. Later, once his report had been delivered and Edward ordered him immediately back with time for only a change of horse and clothing, he'd had no opportunity to see her.

Now that he was back it was obvious that the boy had grown from infant to toddler, indicating how long he'd been away. Seeing them together once again stirred feelings in him that were better left dormant, he knew. Her tender care for the child raised a nagging fear that she was the child's mother. It was very possible that she might have married in the interim, and the child's coloring matched hers. He doubted that Neal had found a suitor for her yet, but it was certainly a possibility. He'd heard the gossip which labeled her an old maid, a cruel and ridiculous title he'd dismissed as soon as hearing it. Even more confusing was the fact that though she kept the boy with her, the gossip had not died down. Was he hers, or not? If so, where was the father, and who was he? As Jared watched her struggle to carry him and their belongings back across the burning fields, he decided to help and perhaps discover the truth as well.

_She is not your concern,_ his conscience warned sharply. Even so, he could not help starting after her.

_**She sensed someone following her and quickened her pace.**_ She knew how to defend herself not only from gossip but from attack as well. Still, with Jeremy in her care she preferred not to engage in any difficult situations. Steadying his head against her neck, she strode toward the keep and prayed to be spared the endless taunts of whichever women followed intent upon scorning her. The snap and crackle of dried husks and gnarled roots underfoot told her that whoever it was they were gaining in distance. Throwing a warning glance over her shoulder she was shocked to see who it was but turned and sped up, her breathing laboured and her heart pounding in anticipation.

_What does he want?_ she thought irritably, _didn't he get enough attention from those women? _He'd certainly seen no need to approach her before; why now? Couldn't he see that she had to attend to Jeremy? Gripping the boy tighter she lengthened her stride while her imagination ran wild with visions of Sir Jared beating off a bevy of interested women.

_Ridiculous_, she thought—none of them was brave or smart enough to face that stern countenance of his. Even if they managed that, surely none of them would be able to hold his interest if gained. Even more unlikely would it be if they could appreciate all that he had suffered and lost, therefore having compassion for and his intent and serious nature. Yet as she tried to put herself in their place she had to admit from what she'd just witnessed he was a sore temptation for any flirt with his dark looks, fascinating eyes and masculine strength. Despite this, what flirt would be loyal to a man who was in truth an outcast with no prospects, sharing a fate similar to her own. And she knew from experience that there was no future in being placed in that position.

_**Jared chastised himself for not approaching her sooner.**_ He felt guilty for not having found the opportunity to speak with her all this time, for he owed her an explanation for what had happened with the signal arrows fired at her that night atop the wall walk. The very next day he'd been promoted to his current position and whisked off to the Marches to oversee the land disputes there. Ever since then he'd been shuttling to and fro there, as well as back and forth here to report and find himself sequestered in political meetings with Edward's advisors. Truly he'd not had a moment to himself to attend to personal affairs, so critical was the arena he now oversaw. A written missive to her would have been taken as inappropriate considering his position, and too risky in terms of alerting anyone else to the arrows. To his surprise and relief, no one else had seemed to witness their appearance, and Aileen had no doubt said nothing. Someone from his clan had fired them to indicate that his return would be expected and awaited, no matter how long it took. The blue ribbons attached to them were their colors, and when he'd slipped them off the arrows and stuffed them into his pocket he doubted Aileen had time to notice them. If she had, she had said nothing. But then again they had not had an opportunity to speak with each other. _Until now…_

He hiked gingerly across the rutted field, trying not to favor his leg. He watched her glance over her shoulder, see him and promptly turn away, stoking his fear that she had indeed married and borne a child in his absence. She would be careful not to be seen with other men, which would explain her separation under the willows. Furthermore she was no doubt upset with him for not contacting her or her father, for they had once enjoyed a closeness he'd found rare. Considering how he would express all of this, he was surprised when she suddenly turned and stopped to face him, her expression defiant. Covering the remaining distance between them he came to a halt two paces from her, ensnared by the dark glare of her ire.

They were both breathing hard from the heat and sun blazing down upon them. He narrowed his gaze upon the moisture dotting her upper lip, immediately regretting that he had done so. For as he watched he saw the tip of her tongue dart out and moisten her lips, jolting him in response. His eyes shot back to hers as an unexpected stab of desire knife through him. He was aware of her catching the child's arm as it fell limply onto her breast, and could not help but notice the clinging fabric of her beige colored gown where it molded against her figure. Dragging his gaze upward he was struck by the fire in her eyes which testified to the fact that she had noticed his unintentional interest. How beautiful her skin looked, flushed with color and without blemish. He watched as her dark, almond shaped eyes lowered to his lips, then traveled downward over his own dampened shirt. Despite this he sensed that she was not aware of her own attraction to him. This was confirmed when she lifted her gaze back to his and tilted her chin up as if facing a naughty child who beneath her displeased glare should find reason enough to repent.

_**Perhaps now he will speak to me,**_ Aileen thought as she held his dark green gaze. She had felt shocked by the masculine interest in his eyes, having never before witnessed it from him or anyone for that matter. Even more shocking was the strange heat his gaze caused to boil deep within her. As she glared at him she was pleased that his interest was extinguished, yet he continued to study her in silent regard, his brow furrowed as if something troubled him. She watched his lips part as he lowered his gaze to Jeremy's sleeping form.

_Perhaps not _she decided when he said nothing. Growing increasingly frustrated at her own awkwardness, she wanted to scream at him and demand what it was he or the rest of the world wanted from her. His frowning focus upon Jeremy indicated his disapproval, unless she misinterpreted his interest in her. As she watched his eyes lift back to hers she waited, admitting that the changes in him were remarkable, greatly in contrast to the last time she'd seen him. He was tanned and fit, more muscular than she remembered. His shoulders looked very broad beneath his lightweight, half opened shirt. The fabric was fine in weave and molded lovingly to the curve of his chest. Peeking out from the place where it parted was a sparse sprinkling of dark hairs, the sight of which made her throat feel even drier than the heat of the day. He stood with his hands planted upon his hips, the bandage that had encased most of his leg now long gone. She forced herself to once again meet his gaze, holding it while she waited for whatever explanation he had for following her.

_I will hold my tongue until he speaks_, she vowed, lifting her chin a notch higher. As she did she saw something fire in his eyes, causing silver flecks to float to the surface of their stormy grey-green depths. She watched in fascination as recognition lit his expression and turned the corners of his well formed mouth only enough to indicate that he welcomed her passionate response, at least for the moment. She hugged Jeremy closer, noting how his eyes shifted back to the boy. She felt her throat catch to think that he might share the same opinion as those who taunted her whenever she took Jeremy out. What would he think of her taking Jeremy? Would he also accuse her of using him as a substitute for the children she would never have? As Jared looked up and held her gaze yet again she interpreted his silence as confirmation. Swallowing back a protest she watched him lift a hand to the back of his neck as he stared at her.

"Is he yours?" he asked softly.

Crushed, she frowned in self defense. "Unfortunately no—though I hardly think that is your concern," she croaked.

The absent massage of his hand stopped yet he kept it behind his neck. "I've seen you with him before."

_He had seen them, without her knowledge?_ "When, might I ask?" she asked haughtily.

His eyes shifted back to Jeremy. "Between trips to the Marches."

"Is _that_ where you've been all this time," she huffed more than asked.

He looked up and their eyes dueled in a strangely exciting dance of challenge. The air between them seemed to sizzle like frying fat, and she wondered if perhaps she was coming down with heat exhaustion, so absurd were her observations.

"That is so," he stated soberly, his eyes drifting back to Jeremy. "Is he well?"

She glanced meaningfully toward the bailey, wondering how long he would keep her standing in the heat while he questioned her about her custody of Jeremy. "His nap was interrupted," she said tartly, feeling a stab of guilt for being so rude.

"Then he is recovering," he surmised, "as anyone would under your capable and watchful care."

"I _enjoy_ being with him," she hissed, hoisting Jeremy higher despite his soft protests. "There is no other reason for my spending time with him."

Jeremy moaned softly, shifting his head to her other side while his thumb traveled toward his mouth. She glanced down and gently held his hand in hers to discourage the bad habit. When she looked up Jared's eyes seemed to have narrowed upon her every move.

"He's a fine looking boy," he stated, nodding his head once. "I understand your possessiveness."

"I can never possess him!" she squeaked, feeling a wave of hysteria suddenly gripped her. "He has his _own_ family and I have mine!"

Her stinging reply hung suspended between them in the silence which followed, as surely as if she had slapped his face. Mortified, she watched his expression darken and knew at once that she had gone too far. Turning his head he seemed to struggle with his temper, during which she noted the lines of strain around his eyes and mouth.

_Could I have misunderstood him?_ she wondered for the first time. To make matters more confusing, she was compelled to ask him how he fared since they had last seen each other and what his feelings were concerning how he'd been forced to leave here. Feeling considerably less irritated she watched him turn his head and purse his lips.

"I meant no offense," he said, looking quickly away. She watched a sudden gust of wind lift his thick hair and suddenly felt the urge to run her fingers through it. Startled by her reaction to him, she switched her attention to the hands curling at his sides, yet not quite making a fist.

"Jared, I'm—"

"Forgive me—"

They both spoke and stopped at the same time, and she looked at him pleadingly to also forgive her. He relaxed his hands and shifted only one back to his hip as he sighed in frustration.

"His mother has been ill," she explained, nearly shouting for joy as his eyes met and held hers. Despite his guarded expression she felt suddenly free from what anyone thought of her, and chose instead to concentrate upon him.

_This is Jared,_ she reminded herself, suddenly realizing that the very idea of him entertaining gossip was glaringly absurd.

"I merely lend a hand by watching him for her," she finished, silently begging him to understand.

His eyes regarded her intently. "As I recall you provide far more than a helping hand, Aileen."

She felt her breath catch, for there was something about the way he said her name in his soft, slightly accented manner that touched her deeply. She nodded as she stared up at him.

"Though Jeremy has the love of his parents, I cannot help loving him too," she told him, "for _his_ sake, not mine."

His eyes bored into hers. "I doubt one could ever have too much love," he said gently.

Something in his eyes made her heart leap, though she told herself she must be overreacting from his attention, so little male attention had she experienced. His expression was one of understanding and compassion. He took a step closer and touched her shoulder, causing her to jump in response as he only lifted the heavy bag from her. Detecting a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, she felt his fingers brushing gently over her skin as he did so. A delicious tingle of excitement trailed in their wake as she watched him loop the bag over his own shoulder, bowed his head only slightly for her notice alone. She dipped in a tiny curtsy and turned with him to start toward the keep. They walked slowly and side by side, their gazes directed forward.

"May I escort you?" he said as they continued.

She glanced at his profile and hid a smile. "I've walked great distances within and out this keep," she stated, waiting for his attention. When he turned his head to meet her gaze she nodded. "Yet I am honored to have your escort, Sir Jared."

He fixed his gaze ahead once more, shortening his stride to more aptly match hers. She saw that there was no one upon the battlements or near the drawbridge, for it was too hot to do anything but rest in the shade. As they continued across the field she wondered about his silence and longed for him to say more. She noted how he stared off into the distance as he rested his hand upon the strap of her bag. His other arm swung gently at his side as he walked, and she was able to note a bit of stiffness in his gait. She wanted to ask him if he had much pain as well, yet thought better of it. Studying his profile, she sensed that he struggled with something that concerned her, and this made her feel very nervous. Yet as they continued on in silence she felt compelled to ask him what that was.

"Have you more to say?" she asked as his troubled gaze found hers. To her dismay he frowned as his eyes seemed to pierce her soul.

"Only if you are in a mood to listen..."

She parted her lips, noting how that seemed to draw his attention. "I owe you an apology," she admitted. "I am sorry I was terribly rude to you…I was angry at someone else, but directed it to you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

He studied her a moment longer before veering from the path which led to the drawbridge, leading her instead down a less traveled path that followed the wall toward the rear of the keep. There the shade from the surrounding trees cooled them as they fell once again into step.

"Apology accepted," he said without looking at her.

Puzzled by his behavior, she had to admit that he was certainly a fascinating man, and one she trusted implicitly.

"Where are we going?" she couldn't help asking as she smiled up at him to soften the question.

He met her gaze without the slightest softening of his expression. "I thought we might spend a bit of time in each other's company—unless you must rush back."

Jeremy was heavy in her arms, but she would not trade this moment for any. "No, I would like that, and I do appreciate the shade along this route."

"It leads to the postern," he explained. "We can enter the keep there, if you allow."

"Of course," she nodded, watching him study the spread of the trees along the moat river.

"I trust your father is well?" he did ask, again without looking at her.

"Yes, very well," she sighed. "Nothing has changed since you left."

At that he turned his head to study her. "I disagree," he said softly, gazing ahead once more.

She had the sense that he meant she had changed, causing her to regret her outburst even more. To cover her embarrassment, she attempted to continue the conversation, only centered around him.

"Have you been at the Marches all this time?"

"Yes," he sighed, glancing down at her. "There more than here."

"I had no idea," she breathed, gazing out past him at the water. "I did miss you, I must confess."

He turned his head to study her with greater intensity. "And I you…by the way, I also owe you an apology."

"I doubt that," she breathed in relief, hoisting Jeremy higher.

"Would you like me to carry him?" he offered, but she shook her head.

"He doesn't know you, and might get upset," she explained in a whisper. "And I doubt you owe me any apology, Jared."

"I wish to apologize for the incident atop the parapet," he said, gazing up in that direction. "The arrows—"

"I'd quite forgotten about that," she said quietly, meeting his returned gaze. "Yet now that you have mentioned it, I admit to being very curious."

He shook his head. "I would have written you in explanation, had I the liberty."

She held his gaze. "That would have pleased me," she smiled, "yet not because of the apology."

At her words he seemed to relax a bit. "The matter is still one of great secrecy, which I regret; yet it was truly only a sign meant for me."

"'Secrecy?'" she sighed, feeling disappointed. "Is the world truly full of spies and gossips, Sir Jared?"

He nodded toward the keep. "I am sure you know that better than I, living here."

"I'm not sure I do," she breathed, "for I've never been far beyond these walls, as have you."

He frowned. "I am afraid people are the same, wherever one finds oneself."

"How cynical that sounds," she teased. "Surely you cannot prefer here when compared to the legendary beauty of your country."

He studied her a moment. "You are correct about the former...I am much too cynical, to my regret."

"You and I seem alike in that."

"Then for that, I am glad not to be alone."

They found themselves at the postern, and he opened the gate and led her into the much cooler interior. Walking toward the juncture of the women's corridor and that of the library they slowed to a halt. She reached for her bag as his eyes sought hers once again.

"Can you manage?" he asked quietly, watching her struggle with Jeremy, who was waking somewhat groggily.

"I'm fine," she assured him, suddenly wishing she was beautiful and charming because of the way he was looking at her. Few men had ever taken much notice, and he made her feel special when she was with him. Surprised at the direction of her thoughts, she nodded politely to him and turned to leave, hoping to spare him any gossip by being seen with her.

"I regret the chasm which has come between us," he said almost as an afterthought. Startled, she hesitated, gazing up at him.

"You say the boldest things," she mused with a soft smile.

He frowned and glanced away. "I feel I must, in my circumstances."

"I regret it as well," she answered truthfully, smiling when he met her gaze. "Perhaps we could talk more atop the roof, if you would permit me."

He seemed somewhat troubled by her statement, but nodded. "I would—forgive me for the sudden nature of this request, but would you join me at dinner tonight?"

She stared hungrily at him, longing for the pleasure of his company and unusual conversation. Thinking to warn him about the gossips, she sensed he already knew and nodded. What harm could there be in them sitting together in the great hall?

"I would like that, very much, Sir Jar—"

"Sir Jared—" a voice called, and they turned to see a young man rushing toward them. Aileen recognized the one who had accompanied him out by the willows. "A moment, please!"

Jared glanced back at her, his expression regretful. "I'm so sorry—"

"King Edward requires your presence," the man interrupted, bowing his head to acknowledge her.

"This is my squire, Benjamin—"

"and says it is most urgent, sir."

"Allow me to introduce Lady Aileen Carrick," Jared stated with a stern frown to his squire.

She acknowledged the introduction as he glanced worriedly at Jared. "Please excuse us, Lady," Benjamin apologized. "I was told to prepare our horses and leave posthaste, as soon as you've spoken to the king."

With a mighty sigh Jared acknowledge the summons with a curt nod. "The Lady and I request a moment."

"It's all right." she breathed, though inwardly she felt angry at Edward. _But he's only just returned! _

Ben stepped away but stood waiting halfway down the corridor, his interest hidden as he stared back at them. To his credit Jared stepped between them, as if to shield her from view. He touched her arm gently, his expression hopeful. "Perhaps another time?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes, of course," she breathed, walking at his side until they passed Benjamin, who grinned despite Jared's brow lifted in challenge.

"I'll pack us and ready the horses," he said suddenly, as if coming out of a daze.

"Do that," he was ordered as they parted and she turned the corner.

Nodding in farewell as he watched her walk away, she was struck by his loneliness as he stood there, and she longed to go back to him instead.

_He's fine, _she reassured herself as she made her way toward Jeremy's quarters. Yet she had the sinking feeling that it would be a very long time until they met again.

_**After a prolonged meeting with Edward, Jared returned to his quarters**_ determined to send her an explanation. Though he needed to leave before sundown he prepared his missive, signed and sealed it and gathered his belongings. As he made his way toward the stables to meet Ben he found a serving girl in the corridor and held out a coin to her, capturing her immediate attention.

"Could you please see that Lady Aileen receives this?" he requested, extending the missive. Her eyes widened as she took it and reached for the coin. "Of course sir, after the dinner hour—"

"I'm afraid it must be right away," he warned, withholding the coin. "I insist, or perhaps you can direct me to someone who has the time."

"No sir—I'd be happy to find her now!" she protested, glancing around as if to see if anyone noted her great fortune. She dipped in a slight curtsy, cradling the missive in her palm. "Please, sir..."

Jared tried not to groan at her submissiveness. "Do you know Lady Aileen?"

"Yes sir, but she does not always dine in the great hall—"

"Do you know where her quarters are situated?"

"Yes sir, but if she is not there I won't rest til I find her and deliver it."

"Good—this is very important," he emphasized as she snatched the coin he extended once again. He stood watching her march in the right direction and marveled yet again at the power of the coin. Then, turning and continuing on his way he felt the burden of his commission drape once again over his weary shoulders.

_**Aileen reviewed the encounter with Jared for the tenth time**_ as she returned from Jeremy's house. Groaning at the sultry heat which still had not eased at the sun's setting, she longed for a cool bath to soak away the sticky film clinging to her skin. She kept thinking of the undercurrent that had flowed between them, finding herself both surprised and thrilled at it. He was a puzzling combination of mystery, attractive masculinity and emotional turmoil that both terrified and excited her. The day had begun with her unaware that he was even at Shrewsbury, and ended with a dinner invitation, despite the implications such an invitation might arouse. He was Edward's ambassador to the Marches, she a poor physician's daughter. He was in exile from his country and family, and she was quite at home in this keep. What caused him to even consider having a conversation with her? Surely he owed her nothing for caring for him, so all that made sense in her mind was the easy friendship they had shared during his recovery. But was that why he had singled her out today?

She had gone over every detail in her mind and kept coming up with one conclusion: they had somehow and quite unexpectedly found themselves drawn to each other even beyond friendship. And if she was brave enough to admit it, they had been flirting. True, it was flirting of a very different character than that which she had previously witnessed. This was very subtle and contradictory to their conversation, yet still it bore the qualities of what she knew equaled true pursuit: the lingering looks, the intense range of feeling and emotion, and lastly the testing of wills. If she was honest with herself she had to admit that she had behaved poorly, yet somehow things had turned and corrected themselves. If it was indeed flirting, neither of them was very good at playing by the rules of such flirting. As she examined their first few moments together she was horrified at having judged him when apparently all he'd wanted to do was ask her to dine with him. She had to forgive herself for it, as he seemed to have. He was in truth a man of noble character, one whom she respected a great deal. Dare she long for and accept any future invitation from him? It was only a public dinner which he'd proposed and surely nothing would come of it, which could not explain why she felt so disappointed to have the opportunity stolen away. If indeed it was not to be she comforted herself with the knowledge that at least their friendship had been restored. He had even mentioned the night the arrows had been used to signal him, and apologized for it as if he had arranged it. Could he expect her to forget about it, now that she was even more intrigued?

"Lady Aileen! Wait!" a girl's voice interrupted her, and she turned to see one of the serving girls running after her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, suddenly worried that something had happened to Father. But the girl was waving a missive high over her head until she reached her side.

"A note for you," she panted, shoving it toward her. "I looked all over the great hall but couldna' find ye at dinner, or I woulda given it to you then."

"I'm on my way to the kitchen now for something," she explained, studying the elegant script outlining her name. "Who gave this to you?"

"A knight, Lady Aileen—he didna give me his name, but he's tall and dark with lovely green eyes, if I may say so! Well I've done my duty and must go home—goodnight now!"

Aileen caught her sleeve. "When did he give this to you?"

"Just before mealtime."

"Where?"

"In the corridor outside the great hall—he looked in a hurry to leave and was dressed for riding."

It had to be Jared she thought, searching her pockets for a coin. "I would pay you, if I had any—"

"No need, Lady, for he paid me himself and quite handsomely!" she laughed, rushing off and leaving her standing in the darkened corridor. Unable to help herself, she broke the seal and moved toward the rush light as she unrolled it. Reading the well formed letters she nearly laughed for joy, and glancing up decided she must go to the parapet to look out over the place he'd once surveyed. Surely he would be long gone by now, for it was late, but as she rushed toward the stairs she whispered a prayer for God's protection over his journey, wondering if and when she might see him again. And as she went she remembered his words already committed to memory.

_Lady Aileen,_

_I must express my deep regret that I am not able to enjoy the pleasure of your company at dinner this night. As I write this I am, as you are aware, preparing for yet another journey of unknown duration back to my post. Please forgive the rudeness of my departure in light of my hope that we might someday enjoy the opportunity, along with your father as well. It has been too long since we shared a meal, and I recall with fondness our lively conversations._

_God willing, I shall look forward to seeing you again._

_Jared_

"'Lively conversations,'" she considered as she reached the top of the wall. They had shared some heated arguments, the three of them, yet for him to label them thus both thrilled and amused her. Noting the sentry's nod of approval she leaned onto the wall and sighed, gazing far below out over the purplish mist of twilight fogging the landscape. "Yes sir—I would welcome the pleasure of your company," she whispered, distracted by the clatter of hooves upon the drawbridge just before it began to be was hoisted up for the night.

A pair of destriers pranced out onto the bailey road, and she watched them in silence as the sentry shouted their departure. They were unmarked as were the riders, but something told her that it was Jared and Benjamin, his squire. She studied the set of the taller man's shoulder and spied his hand shift to his leg as if to massage it.

_Jared!_ she wanted to call out and wave her arm, but she would attract the sentry's attention and cause him to wonder why she would act in such a manner. Instead she gripped the wall and tensed, watching every move he made as he rode away, perhaps for good. Her throat caught at the sight of him disappearing beneath the ridge, and for quite some time she remained there, staring out at the empty landscape.

"_**It is as I have said," Jared insisted,**_ his patience departing and his temper flaring. He slammed his palm over the papers spread before him and shook his head. "King Edward will never agree to it."

There was an outcry from all those attending and he felt the weight of Ben's gaze at this back. His squire was sorely in need of a leave of absence after all they'd been through, as was he. For days the chieftains of the Marches had been arguing amongst themselves, all vying for supremacy and control of the area now policed by Edward's troops. They had been dispatched to ensure their safety, he knew, but only aggravated the situation further.

"Edward can rest assured that one of us in charge is better than all of us at odds!" one chieftain of Powys growled, earning a round of cheers and poundings upon the conference table.

"Appointing one leader is not the objective of these discussions!" Jared shouted in order to be heard above the din. "The laws drawn up in this treaty clearly outline what few guidelines are necessary to achieve cooperation without struggling for individual power, and offer no great difficulty to any particular tribe in order to be observed. So please, in the absence of any one leader capable of uniting us all—"

"'Us?'" one of the chiefs of Glamorgan challenged. "How dare you count yourself as one of _us_!"

"He's just as much one of us as any man in this room!" the chieftain of Leominster argued, "or would ye rather deal with the English?"

"Ap-Ryce is a traitor, as far as I'm concerned!" someone complained.

"He's hardly to be faulted for helping us stand up to Edward!"

"Where is his brother David, I'd like to know?"

"We cannot afford to be bickering when our people are fighting for survival!"

"I am here to uphold the faith King Edward has placed in us to achieve our own objectives, based upon very few rules of governorship to ensure peaceful cooperation," Jared emphasized. "That is my only objective, _gentleman_."

"He speaks so eloquently," a voice interrupted, startling them all. All eyes flew to the man standing at the threshold of the hall. "One almost could hope he will be successful," Llewellyn stated as he strolled into the room, accompanied by three of his men. A hush descended upon the meeting yet Jared knew the trouble he faced with the man's presence. He fought to keep his expression devoid of emotion as he slowly rose from his seat and gestured for him to be seated.

"Prince Llewellyn ap Gruffyd," he introduced in the rare case that someone might not recognize the man. A round of hearty applause burst forth and took up several more minutes of precious time.

Llewellyn bowed in acknowledgement as he sat, holding up a hand toward Jared. "I'd heard you surfaced at these meetings, Jared—please forgive the interruption, but I just could not help myself."

Laughter broke out and Jared endured yet another interruption, leaning toward the scrivener who was furiously recording their proceedings for Edward's review. "Take great care to record every word he says," he warned soberly, his eyes upon the man shaking hands with those nearest him. "If you miss anything else, count it as of lesser import."

"Aye sir," he man answered, returning to his writing. "This should be interesting."

Jared pursed his lips and sat back down, eyeing Ben before he turned back to the documents before him. "Please see that Prince Llewellyn receives a copy of the notice," he requested, and Ben shot from his place as if eager to be on the move.

"I've no need for any copies," Llewellyn waved in dismissal, but Ben to his credit laid one upon the table at his side, deflecting a punch from one of the prince's men.

"This meeting is to be carried out in an orderly fashion," Jared said pointedly, eyeing the man, "unless we prefer English rule be immediately set in place."

A chorus of nays arose and eventually quieted enough for him to continue. "The edict stands until we assemble our own legislation. You have a fortnight to carry the word back to your people. Any objections or questions must be addressed to the Committee and sent by courier to Shrewsbury within that time," he informed them.

"But we wish to negotiate only through you," Llewellyn stated, smiling at the chorus of agreement that followed his demand.

Jared ground his jaw. "I am only Edward's representative—"

"Are you not Jared ap-Ryce?" Llewellyn challenged, "son of Evan of Mynydd Hiraethog?"

"That is my father's land," he answered, facing the chieftains of Clywd. "We share the county, do we not gentlemen?"

The eight men representing the district shouted their support. "Jared is a fit ambassador, as you well know Llewellyn!"

"I meant no offense," the prince shouted back, leaning forward to place his arms upon the table before him. "Yet word travels far that your father is in danger of losing his suzerainty, in the face of your and your brothers' absence. Perhaps your time would be better spent taking your rightful place and returning—"

"My time is dedicated to this endeavor," Jared said sternly, waiting for order to resume. He fired a warning glance to the Powys chieftains as he continued. "The crucial decision is yours, sirs—I await your answer with faith and hope that you will do what is best for your people. This meeting is hereby adjourned, to be resumed on the morrow at noon. I bid you a good night."

Everyone shouted either joy or outrage at his decision, most jumping from their seats and storming out. Ben pressed against him with a hand laid upon his back as he drew the soldiers lining the wall toward them for escort. Llewellyn got up slowly, enjoying being in another circle of admirers, his eye catching Jared's as he was about to pass by. Halting to stare at the self proclaimed prince, he then moved on, sensing that before the night was over they would be speaking in private.

_How dare he threaten Father's lands,_ he fumed, attempting to hide his outrage. He thought of his brother David, still in custody and named after Llewellyn's traitorous brother, both like the prince having the same arrogant and self centered goals without seeking other less confrontational ways to deal with those around them.

As he entered his rented house he dropped into the chair by the hearth, ignoring the soldiers barking commands outside the walls as they positioned themselves around the small building to guard against assassination. Ben calmly bent to stoke the small fire over which the housekeeper had left a stew simmering, and he heard him stirring it as he commented upon the ingredients. Exhausted and spent, Jared realized that he had not eaten all day and was paying the price with a monstrous ache in his head. Raising a hand to his brow he leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

"Shall I get you the tea for yer head, sir?" Ben asked quietly.

"Please," Jared sighed, slumping lower in the chair as he noted the latest development in the troubled negotiations they had suffered all summer. "Who would have thought the prince himself would come?"

"Prince of what, sir?" Ben quipped, stirring something into a mug.

"Exactly, Ben," Jared sighed tiredly. "Prince of What…"

"Ye done well sir, managing all that," Ben said as he poured hot water over the tea, releasing the fragrance of strawberry leaves and bitter herbs.

"Maybe it is a good sign that he came, after all," Jared admitted, reaching for the tea. He took a swallow and thanked Ben for preparing it. As he settled his head back he remembered how Aileen had smiled shyly when first presenting him a cup, saying it was her own special remedy guaranteed to relieve all kinds of aches of the head. He still wondered how she had managed to see that this small pouch of it had been slipped into his saddlebags without him noticing. The thought of her doing that just for him caused his mind to wander, and he imagined all sorts of details which might explain why she had done so. For not the first time he wondered about her well-being and the difficulties she faced in her own life.

"Does he pose any particular danger, sir?" Ben repeated, snapping his mind back to the present.

He took another swallow of her tea before answering. "He's an old friend of my father's," he answered, "but not of mine. I am not quite sure how to read him."

"Shall I tell the guards to be on alert—"

"I expect they already know," he stated blandly, draining the mug and getting to his feet. "We can expect a visit from him after dark. Until then there is much to do, but I need a bite to eat first."

"Aye, sir—some stew right away, and I don't mind joining you."

"Thank you, Ben—I appreciate all you've done, enduring this assignment. I will understand should you seek a different position upon our return."

"My loyalties are with you, sir, wherever you end up."

"Should it be outside Edward's domain I'll not allow it," Jared assured him. "I will speak to Artus concerning that eventuality, upon our return."

"Thank you, sir," Ben said as he handed him a bowl of stew. They stood eating in silence until Jared eyed the anteroom where a bed had been set for him. Longing to fling himself down upon it just to rid himself of the pain in his head, he quickly finished his meal.

"I see that look, sir," Ben said, nodding toward the bed. "A nap would do ye a world of good, sir, if I may say so. I can wake you if anything needing your attention occurs."

Jared nodded, finishing the last spoonful. "You'll make a grand knight someday soon," he told him as he walked toward the door. "Wake me around ten; I should be better able to think more clearly after some rest."

"Would you be wanting some hot water for a bath later?"

Jared waved a hand behind him as he walked into the room. "At first light will be fine," he called back, "and stay in yourself. I've already alerted the guard to expect Llewellyn around midnight."

Ben nodded. "Aye sir," he said, closing the door with a sigh. "I'll leave ye to your rest."

Jared slowly sat down on the bed. Rubbing his temples, he then bent to remove his boots and stockings before stretching out upon the bed. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to relax but his mind was filled with warring thoughts and anxiety. Whispering his prayer language he continued breathing slowly and turned to his left side, drawing the coverlet over himself though he was too tired to change his clothes.

Attempting to relax, he found his thoughts traveling back to the memory of the sea which had surrounded his childhood home, and where he knew his inheritance waited to be claimed. If God willing he managed to survive long enough to return there he knew it would of necessity require several important changes to occur in his life. Just the thought of a less complicated life intrigued him, and he prayed that someday he might enjoy a home of his own, and a family. With a great sigh he released himself to more hopeful dreams of a future far from this place.

_c. 2008 by Christine Levitt_


	5. Chapter 5 The Debut

_**Chapter 5 The Debut**_

"_**We should never have listened to Llewellyn," **_Morgan groaned, his stomach churning wildly. He turned his head to look across at his brother, who was apparently managing much better than he. "In fact, I should never have listened to _you_."

"Shut your mouth," David hissed, "or do you want to draw the guard's attention again?"

Morgan eyed the entryway with renewed respect before glancing back toward his older brother. "I might just do that," he hinted, lifting himself from the bent over position which eased his pain. He had suffered from dysentery for days now, while his brother remained unscathed.

"Now why would you want that?" David retorted, eyeing the other end of the hall. "Want another lashing?"

"I might have somethin' new to tell him."

"Such as?"

"The truth," Morgan spat, feeling a bit better with the effort. "That it was Llewellyn who put us up to this, despite his show of support for the king."

"'Support,'" David grunted, "Edward hadn't even been crowned yet when we came here, yet everyone has been calling him king! We all thought he needed a little reminder of his mortality, which was just what we accomplished. Took down his arrogance a notch I'd say. No, we must stay put till Prince Llewellyn gets us out of here, so be quiet and save your strength."

"For what? We are rotting in here despite his promises!"

"He will rescue us," David insisted, "when the time is right."

Morgan laughed, clutching his stomach. "You cannot believe that, after all these months?"

"The man is as good as his word."

"Well I cannot wait anymore. In case the thought did not occur to you, wee could die in this hole."

"If not Llewellyn, then Father will get us out."

"Not if he finds out we've worked for Llewellyn—we should have trusted Jared—"

"Don't say it again—"

"But he was right! This is not the way to deal with Edward's power! We're helpless, and I've decided to do somethin' about it—guard!"

David surged against the bars of his cell, gripping them with wild eyed anger. "Quiet, you fool! You'll get us both executed!"

"Guard—I want to speak with the warden!" Morgan called out.

"I said quiet!" David warned. "Or I'll kill you myself!"

"Like you left Jared to die? You would kill your own flesh and blood, I regret to say—"

"He's not my flesh and—"

"He was a better brother than you'll ever hope to be—"

They both fell silent as the door clanked open and the guard stomped toward them. "Who's makin' all the noise?" he demanded. "What do ya want!"

"Please," Morgan pleaded, pulling himself higher against the bars. "I have something to report—"

"He's ill, sir," David soothed, "and not in his right mind—"

"I am lucid and I've got information I wish to share—"

"If it's more of the same lies, we're not interested," the guard growled.

"I tell you the truth, sir, on my honour," Morgan insisted. "Please, sir—the warden needs to know the truth about a plot to undermine the king, one no one suspects."

The guard eyed him in silence, considering his request.

"He's insane, sir," David offered, shaking his head in sympathy.

"Why are _you_ so concerned?" the guard scoffed to David.

"He is my brother, sir."

"Is he now?" he answered, inserting the key into Morgan's cell lock. "Well anything that involves the safety of the kingdom is worth a trip to the warden's offices for questioning—get up now, come on!"

David hung his head as Morgan was helped from his cell. "Fool," he hissed, "just another fool for a brother."

Morgan smiled back over his shoulder at him. "We'll see who the real fool is."

_**Jared stood at attention while Llewellyn circled him as if to inspect fine horseflesh.**_ His head pounded painfully, but not as much as it had previous to his nap. And a fine nap it was, he thought, covertly studying his adversary as his person was searched for hidden weapons. As if he were the threat, after they'd banged down the doors and dragged him from his first good rest in days.

Clenching his jaw at their rough molestation, he flexed his hands to restore feeling since his wrists were so tightly bound. With unswerving gaze he held Llewellyn's glare, telling himself this was nothing compared to the Moslem dungeon where he'd been held. Much gossip centered around this self-proclaimed Prince of Wales, as the English named their country. In person however the man was not too impressive with his short stocky build and his face covered with an unkempt beard. His eyes however were narrowed and shrewd, with a dark presence emanating from their depths which caused Jared to pray silently against its menace. Llewellyn's men stood back to declare him unarmed while their prince smiled knowingly. He circled him malevolently, his gaze like a tangible touch which traveled down Jared's length and caused chills to run up his spine. He swallowed carefully but showed no other response.

"So you are the firstborn," the smooth voice elucidated before they faced each other once again. He shrugged and smiled at Jared teasingly. "You don't look like your brothers."

At his silence Jared felt a knife press against the side of his throat and answered. "Half brothers, sir," he answered.

Llewellyn laughed gaily and clapped his hands together, pacing slowly before him. "You are a long way from home, serving the English king."

Jared ground his jaw as the knife pressed meaningfully harder. "I do so out of compulsion, sir."

"Really? Correct me if I am misinformed, but did you not travel with _Prince _Edward at his last Crusade?"

Jared knew he had to answer, though usually he never spoke of his experiences in the Holy Land. Not to anyone.

Llewellyn smiled dangerously. "I could make life quite uncomfortable for you, should you choose to remain silent…do tell me about your relationship with Edward, for I am very curious why someone like you, a prince in your own right, might support his cause."

"My men and I traveled there for a common purpose, sir," he admitted.

"Indeed—why might I ask, to bring us more up to the present, did you travel last spring to Shrewsbury to visit a man whose primary interest is in fortifying castles in our lands?"

Jared kept his expression blank. "If I may sir, I would discuss the even more recent matter at hand," he stated, eyeing the full moon meaningfully.

"Ah, but your motives _are _the matter at hand, Jared," Llewellyn insisted, swinging his arms at his side as he continued pacing. "Please, enlighten me: surely the disagreements within your own family and clan are not as desperate as to indicate cooperating with the enemy?"

Jared scanned the angry faces before him, glancing in Ben's direction to see his squire watching in fear as he stood held between two of their men. The English troops who had supposedly been guarding them lie bound and gagged at his feet, most of them knocked out.

"Edward's proposal is a fair one, and poses no threat to any lands outlying the Marches."

"Surely you aren't as naïve as to believe that," Llewellyn scoffed. "How old are you, by the way—12?"

Several guffaws rumbled among his men and Jared was tempted to remind them all that their own prince's defiance of Edward's authority was what got them all into trouble to begin with. Yet he did not wish to end this discussion with a knife in his gut.

"He is protecting his own borders, as the Marcher lords protect theirs," he replied, glancing at the men facing him. "Someone has to try to get them to stop raiding and killing each other."

Shouts of laughter and side jabbing ensued, which angered Llewellyn even more. It was exactly what Jared wanted.

"I am no Marcher lord!" Llewellyn stormed, silencing the laughter. He stalked up to stand so close to Jared that he could smell the man's noxious breath. Llewellyn stabbed a finger into his chest and looked angry enough to spit. "His interests lie in the conquest of the Cymri and you know it! He will not stop there but expand north and westward into your lands and mine," he fumed, stepping back and reaching into his pocket. Jared tensed, but he only pulled out a flask and lifted it for a few quick swallows.

"He will not if we might convince him that we are better than the Marcher lords and capable of governing ourselves in unity," Jared answered sternly, "and respect his authority and right to do the same in his own country."

Llewellyn choked back a laugh. "Respect his authority? What about his refusal to recognize me as Prince?"

"It matters not what I think—"

"Ah but it does for you sir are his representative, diplomat or ambassador, or whatever you are," Llewellyn waved at him dismissively, earning even heartier laughter from his men. He turned and planted his hands upon his hips, his glare condescending and scolding. "What must your father think of your new position?"

"I've come unwillingly to this task," Jared repeated. "My only objective is to address the violence in the Marches. If we can accomplish recognition and unanimous acceptance of the peace treaty we shall prove to Edward our right to self-governance—"

"'Our right?'" Llewellyn sneered. "You haven't the right to call yourself one of us any longer—"

"I am what I am," Jared ground out, wishing he could punch the man in the gut. "Edward will respect any prince who secures peace among his fellow countrymen, especially in the Marches."

Llewellyn stopped short and held up a hand. Then he glanced sideways at Jared as if he finally understood his meaning. Walking up to stand before him, he shook his head. "You intrigue me, Jared," he said softly, his eyes traveling over his face. "When you state it thus, I am actually tempted to consider your proposal."

A hush fell over the men before murmurs rose to discussion, prompting Llewellyn to raise his hand for silence. He turned and smiled at his men. "In fact Jared, you can count on me to be there at tomorrow's meeting."

Relief washed through him though he stared without expression at the prince. Though a less considerate reply was upon his lips he nodded. "Good."

Llewellyn pointed a finger at him, jabbing it into his chest once again. "I will be watching you very carefully," he warned before turning and walking away.

He was immediately shoved into motion and stumbled down the rise and back into the field, held firmly by his guards. They stopped within sight of Ben and cut the ropes, shoving him roughly toward his squire before turning to follow their leader back into the shadows. Rubbing his sore arms Jared nodded toward Ben's guards as they too left him in a similar manner. Walking into the light pouring from the house he noted how Ben bent to cut the bonds binding their guards as he shook them to rouse them. A few were already awake and spoke as soon as their gags were removed.

"We didna even see them coming!" they apologized to Jared, one spitting in annoyance.

"Like ghosts they were, Sir Jared!" he explained.

"They'll pose no other threat this night," he reassured them, "now get some rest but keep a half dozen on watch."

Passing by Ben he slapped his shoulder, entering the house and heading straight for his bed. "Wake me before noontime," he called back.

_**"Father, do you know if Sir Jared has arrived yet?" **_Aileen asked, licking her lips from the sip of wine.

Neal threw her a questioning look. "Of course not—how would I know that?"

She shrugged. "You seem close enough," she stated, scanning the crowded hall yet again but seeing no sign of the guest of honour. Marveling at how well everyone appeared dressed in their finest attire for the occasion, she had her doubts about her own pale gold gown. It was simple in design, quite unlike all the other ornate flounces of satin, lace and jewels, but compared to her usual dress it was fancy enough. She found it difficult to breathe properly in the tight corset Elinor's maid insisted she must wear, and feared spilling out of the bodice so low was its cut. The densely packed crowd complicated matters and she felt confined and hot without much space in which to move. Even worse, her stomach fluttered nervously and her feet ached from the new satin slippers she wore. In summary she felt ridiculous and out of place, like a peacock on display though she did her best to avoid attention. Standing between the wall and the refreshment table with her father and the elderly chaperones helped in avoiding attracting suitors, but she longed to flee to her quarters and change into normal clothing. Unfortunately that was now impossible, and even worse if she did she might miss seeing him again.

"Don't worry, darling," her father said with an amused expression. "Jared cannot miss his own celebration dinner, can he?"

"I'm sure the possibility exists," she sighed, thinking of how busy he usually was, "though I doubt he would regret it."

Neal chuckled, shaking his head at her misery. "Do I sense a bit of longing to flee again? Truly there is no need to be so nervous, finally being in charge of your own destiny."

She stopped fanning herself, snapping the paper accessory back into its holder. "I'm not nervous," she said more to convince herself than her father. There was a shout from the general vicinity of the left entryway and she rose upon her toes to see. It was only one of the knights who had accompanied him on his last journey to the Marches.

_Where are you, Jared?_

"One would think you'd wish to impress one suitor in particular," Father mused, drawing her attention.

"I want no suitors at all, which is why I've shunned being placed in this position!" she clarified. "I have no idea how to politely refuse to dance—"

"You should dance with everyone who's signed your cared," he lectured. "That is how things are done, particularly when royalty are present."

They found they must press back against the wall in order to allow people to pass by. She saw the other debutantes begin to file toward their chaperones, though they ignored her completely. Starting after them to make herself known she felt her father's restraining hand on her arm. Just then a commotion erupted around the dias as her heart pounded in fear. She leaned toward her father's ear as he bent closer to hear.

"Aren't things getting too out of hand?" she said loudly enough for him to hear. He nodded and guided her around the refreshments toward their table.

"Everyone is excited, as they should be," he reassured her. "And it is high time you entered society, my dear."

"I realize that, but it would be less of a spectacle if Sir Jared and the others deflected some of the glory of debut onto themselves—they deserve far more attention that a handful of spoiled girls."

Father chuckled while glancing toward the queen. "You had better not let Elinor hear you say that," he warned good naturedly.

"It is all a needless fuss, in my humble opinion," she stated, reaching up to tuck the comb sliding from her hair back into its place.

Neal searched the crowd as the din seemed to increase. "You can take comfort in the fact that most of the excitement does seem to be due to Jared's accomplishments."

She opened her fan again in an effort to cool her flushed face. "I just hope we don't embarrass him…"

"I doubt that is possible," Father smiled, gesturing toward their seats. "You look lovely, and I am sure he will be captivated and distracted, rather than embarrassed. In that you might be helping him to endure his own responsibilities this night."

"Jared will be fine," she stated. "I doubt he would ever be nervous about anything."

"Then where is he?" Father asked as he too scanned the crowd for their missing friend.

"He may not even attend, Father."

"Why do you say that? Surely he realizes the value in social intercourse, particularly on this occasion."

"Jared is in danger of being labeled a recluse, Father, which probably would amuse him," she sighed. "I could not blame him for not appearing."

"No, he will be here, at least for your sake," Father said absently, his eyes circling the hall again.

"'My sake?'" she repeated, gripping his arm. "Please tell me you did not mention _this_ to him!"

He glanced at her before returning to his watch. "I did send him an invitation, now that you mention it."

"Oh no," she moaned, covering her cheeks with her gloved hands. "Now he knows."

"He would have known in any event," Father insisted. "Why not see it as an opportunity to spend some time together, or perhaps even have some fun for a change? Surely it would raise both your standings with the gossips."

She covered a laugh and shook her head. "The gossips are terrified of Jared, Father!"

"Well they still whisper behind one's back, as you well know."

"I doubt that, Father."

He shrugged. "The circumstances of his arrival provided plentiful fodder, as did his promotion and the jealousy it aroused among the other knights."

She put her fan away once again. "That was old news, Father."

"Then you haven't heard the latest."

"Father—you listen to gossip?"

"I am a physician, my dear—and am subjected to it whether I like it or not!"

"What do you mean by 'the latest'?"

He leaned closer, his gaze upon the crowd. "It is of the most vicious order, and proposes his apparent disinterest in women. And you must admit that he always appears alone in public, or in the company of other men."

She waved a hand of dismissal. "He's hardly here _to_ be seen with anyone."

"Yet most men do set aside time for female companionship," he said somberly. "If they do not, questions are bound to arise."

Aileen thought of the times she and Jared had been together, but of course she could not mention that to her father. Thinking of the blonde women in the willow grove, she wondered why that encounter would not have sufficed to lay such doubts concerning Jared to rest.

"I do hope for his sake that such gossip will in time fade," she sighed as they watched Edward and Elinor begin to take their seats. "Though I doubt it would disturb him much to learn of it."

"You might help lay it to rest," Father hinted, studying her expression. She straightened at his suggestion. "Well you are the one woman he's spent time with, although while in recovery."

"That may be true, but he certainly did not choose to."

"No, but tell me—what was his manner, gentlemanly or uncaring?"

"He was in a great deal of pain most of the time," she emphasized, "not to mention the personal anguish he must have suffered from his family failing to ransom him."

"Then he confided in you, concerning personal matters?"

She stared at him in confusion. "The one thing I do know is that he is _not_ interested in other men—"

Father looked suddenly troubled. "How would you know that, Aileen?"

She stared at him in surprise. "Father, you needn't worry—women can sense these things, without becoming the subject of a man's interest!"

His brows lifted. "Then he is not interested in you?"

She smiled and turned away, tucking in a tendril of hair which had slipped from its place. "We are _friends_, Father."

"…do you hold a _tendre_ for him, Aileen?"

She swung her gaze back to him, noting his knowing look. "Father!" she hissed, scanning their surroundings to be sure no one overheard him. "Whatever possessed you to say that?"

He hid a smile as he turned toward the dias again. "It might be the way you become animated when discussing him."

She stared at him as he raised his arm to gesture to someone, her gaze trailing after his. To her surprise she saw Jared standing at the entrance to the great hall, surrounded by a small crowd of admirers, a quarter of whom were female. _Let the gossips take note!_

"I think he sees us," Father stated excitedly, continuing to wave him over.

She watched Jared look up and nod to her father. Excusing himself, he began to head in their direction. Her heart skipped a beat as he caught her gaze, and she watched him move slowly through the crowd. As he was interrupted many times by well wishers and handshakes, she noted how he was dressed formally in a fine black surcoat beneath which he wore a plain but dazzlingly white tunic. As her gaze lowered it halted at the sapphire coloured sash crossing his chest, its hue matching the ribbons that had adorned the flaming arrows shot over their heads. Her eyes snapped up at the same moment he met her gaze, and she was rattled by how attractive he looked. Unable to look anywhere else she watched as he came enough to extend his hand to Father. They shook hands and then her father embraced him, during which time he threw an interested glance in her direction.

"Good evening, sir," he said as they drew apart, returning his gaze to her. "Lady Aileen," he said softly, inclining his head toward her.

"Jared—it is so good to see you!" Father declared. "Congratulations on your achievement—we are all so proud of you. Excellent work!"

"Thank you sir," he said soberly; "that means a lot, coming from you."

When his attention returned to her she absently stretched out her gloved hand. Feeling his warm grasp she wondered why on earth she had agreed to wear gloves. Swallowing nervously, she felt captive by his grey-green gaze.

_Say something to him!_

"Congratulations," she choked, smiling happily as his gaze warmed. "And welcome home."

He hesitated, his hand still encompassing hers. Then she felt her hand lift for his kiss, over which his eyes darkened to a forest green.

"Thank you, milady," he said softly, his deep voice vibrating through her. "You look very lovely tonight."

She felt his hand gently squeeze hers just before Father laid a hand upon his shoulder.

"I trust that all will go well now, with a more stable future?" Father asked him.

He released her hand as he straightened, turning his attention to her father's hopeful gaze. "I pray that it does, sir—though we have only ventured down that path."

"Please Sir Jared," she blurted without thinking, "won't you join us for dinner?"

His eyes fired with interest and she sensed that they both remembered his prior invitation. He bowed slightly. "I would like nothing more," he answered, nodding toward the dias. "But unfortunately Edward has plans to display me up front, at least until after the main course."

Disappointment flooded her and she felt herself blushing. "Of course," she said softly, "how silly of me."

"Not at all," he stated, looking at her father. "Perhaps another time? But now I ask your leave, for I am being summoned."

"Join us in my quarters for luncheon, then," Father invited. "We are eager to catch up on lost time—

and if you'll both excuse _me_ I see someone with whom I must speak."

"Of course," he answered, and they found themselves alone in the midst of a crowd growing more boisterous. His eyes searched hers while several hands gripped his arm, tugging for him to go.

She smiled bravely and nodded to him, surprised by a sensation of something moving in her hair. Reaching up to find out what, she squeaked in surprise to feel a wet blob atop her head. "What—?"

Artus laughed heartily, gripping her upper arms as he curved around her to reveal himself. "You!" she scolded, pulling the dew laden rose from her hair. "I thought a spider was crawling over my head!"

"You were far too nervous to resist," he drawled, nodding to Jared. "Congratulations, Jared—I knew you could accomplish it—"

"Aileen!" Serena gasped, rushing up to hug her fiercely. "You are finally doing it!"

"Serena!" she breathed, hugging her back and blushing at her outburst. "When did you arrive?"

"Just this afternoon!" she answered, curtsying to Jared, who looked puzzled. "May I sit with you and your father?"

"Yes, of course," she assured her, turning to face Jared. "Please allow me to introduce Sir Jared, and this is Lady Serena—"

He bowed politely, lifting her hand for a kiss. "I am pleased to meet you, Lady Serena."

"We asked him to join us, but he is required upon the dias," Aileen explained, meeting Jared's amused look.

"I am honoured to finally meet you, Sir," Serena said shyly, folding her hands at her waist. Aileen watched her study his features as if to assess his character. "We are happy to have you as our ambassador."

He looked a bit uncomfortable but nodded, glancing at Aileen. "I will do whatever I can to help protect innocent lives, on both sides."

"I need a word with you," Artus said to him, nodding toward the dias. "And we are both being summoned."

He pursed his lips before taking his leave. It was clear to her that he did not wish to go. "Please excuse us," he said gently, leaning toward Aileen. "Perhaps we might speak later, after the awards?"

She nodded. "Of course, Sir Jared."

He turned just as Artus kissed Serena's forehead. "I'll fetch you later."

"All right," she answered, smiling at him as Aileen gripped her arm. Together they watched them make slow progress toward the dias.

"You and Artus?" Aileen gasped in surprise, turning to face Serena. ""When did this happen and why was I not informed?"

"Just last night," Serena confessed happily. "We've been friends nearly a month now, and he promised me six dances at least—"

"That jester! He knew we've been friends and never said a word—"

"Never mind that!" Serena interrupted, glancing up toward the men as they climbed the dias. "You must tell me about _him _and why you never mentioned how handsome he is!"

Aileen joined her in watching him shake Edward's hand. "It wasn't so obvious at first," she admitted more to herself. "His character is so strong, and intense."

"Yes and I saw the way he was looking at you!" Serena whispered with a giggle.

"This is the first time I've seen him look even somewhat at ease," she tried to explain, her smile fading as she studied him from a distance. "Yet I sense there is something wrong…"

"I doubt he's very comfortable, being in the center of everyone's attention," Serena observed, to which Aileen only nodded.

They watched Edward move toward the podium as he raised his hands to call them to order. "Please everyone, find your seats—we would like to begin."

Jared was interrupted along the way by the other guests seated upon the dias, most of whom were Edward's advisors or commanders and knights. While he made slow progress toward the empty seat next to Artus. she seated Serena on her left while her father joined them and sat on her right.

"Order please," Edward called, "Yes—thank you. Please be seated everyone….tonight we gather together for two purposes," he began, nodding when he had everyone's attention. "The first is one which concerns us all—as most of you are aware, we have for some time suffered turmoil in the lands just west of here, the kind which threatens to foment into rebellion and must therefore be carefully guarded. My advisers and I finally decided upon our need to have an ambassador with whom we might charge the responsibility of negotiating for terms of peace among the various peoples living there. We have chosen well and for the past months he has been hard at work at this difficult task. I am now happy to officially announce that he has accomplished what we could only have hoped for, an important breakthrough and the opportunity to stabilize what had been a longstanding threat to our safety. Tonight we wish to recognize and celebrate this treaty and reveal the documents he has authored on our behalf. More importantly, we must honour the man responsible for achieving this remarkable success—Sir Jared ap-Ryce."

Murmurs of surprise rose throughout the hall, punctuated by bursts of applause, one from Aileen's table and the loudest from the dias itself. Aileen noted how Jared's jaw tensed while he glanced down at his plate and toyed with his spoon.

"We introduce to you tonight and welcome back into our midst from his many and long journeys, Sir Jared--please stand sir, if you can?"

He looked up while the knights sharing his table laughed and applauded, the audience joining them as he stood and took a quick bow. Seating himself once again, he leaned toward Artus as he seemed to question him during the applause. Edward lowered his hands and smiled, waiting for order to resume.

"Sir Jared will speak to us immediately after the first course, and I pray you give him your undivided attention. He has only just returned today, so we must see that he has some sustenance to carry him through the ordeal of presenting his speech."

They watched as he laughed along with the others, nodding his agreement. Aileen thought he answered, "That is true, Your Grace."

Edward laughed jovially, as if enjoying the victory of winning Jared's laughter. "May I have your attention again, please? I also wish to announce a second and equally important purpose for gathering tonight, as we have many times in the past yet each time has been special. Tonight we also formally introduce to you five young women who enter into society this evening…ladies, please stand in your places for a moment while I call your names?"

The applause began as one by one they stood, and when Aileen complied she was sure that her face was bright red with embarrassment. Gripping Serena's hand as she stood, for they both initiated together, she met Jared's gaze across the distance, concentrating on him as she smiled and felt herself relax. Glad to seat herself once again, she breathed her thanks for the applause and pressed her shoulder to Serena's as they attempted to settle down for the rest of Edward's speech.

_The worst is over!_

"Remember," her father encouraged as he leaned close. "It is only for one night."

"Thankfully," she whispered as he kissed her cheek. "Although I feel we will appear as goods in the marketplace, for sale to the highest bidder."

"Perhaps Sir Jared will be interested in a purchase!" Serena teased.

"No matchmaking!" she whispered, griping her hand for support.

The servers were summoned and quickly filed into the hall to serve bowls of thick soup, which were deftly placed before them. For the first time since entering the hall Aileen pulled off her gloves and picked up her spoon. She was hungry, not having eaten since early morning, and that only a little due to her nervousness. Looking toward the dias she watched Jared sip a spoonful, his head turned toward the older man on his left who was pointing out something of obvious import. She sighed in relief, admitting that she was looking forward to hearing what he had to say, for even to her and Father his words been few.

She asked Serena about her visit to her sister's home to see their new baby, then shared about her work in labor and delivery, a new task her father had insisted she try. To her amazement she found she loved assisting in the birth process, especially caring for the newborns. But before long Edward stood again and begged their attention, motioning to Jared who rose and began to make his way to the podium.

"I hope everyone has enjoyed their first course," Edward announced. "It is at this time that we will hear what I promise will be a fascinating report of the events which so recently transpired in the Marches. As Sir Jared comes to share with you, I ask that you consider the cost of what we must sacrifice for the greater good, and thus appreciate all that we your overseers work so hard to gain for all our benefit and peaceful existence."

As Jared passed by the man next to Edward the man tugged his sleeve and forced him to stop, though he looked to Edward for pardon. Ignoring the king, the man spoke with obvious insistence, shaking his finger at Jared who leaned close enough to hear him out. Edward, watching them with an amused smile on his face, faced the audience once again.

"Please pardon the interruption, ladies and gentlemen, we have been momentarily delayed. Perhaps I might share with you how Sir Jared came to us already well qualified for his role, having been born and raised in the north of Wales. This background, as well as his character and experience, have enabled him to propose, detail and negotiate a brilliant plan, setting into motion the beginning of an era of cooperation and peace, one that will touch and enrich all our lives."

Jared nodded and finally broke away, coming quickly to Edward's side. To Aileen's notice his leg lagged a bit behind the other, but not so that the untrained eye would notice. She watched while they shook hands, noting for the first time that he stood nearly as tall as Edward. Standing together, she also realized that he must be closer to the king's age than hers, and for the first time she wondered how old he was. She watched as Edward placed a hand upon his shoulder as they waiting for quiet.

"I hope everyone realizes that appearing at a celebration such as this is something Sir Jared usually and very enthusiastically avoids at every opportunity," he teased. A burst of hearty laughter erupted from the knight's section of the table, as well as from the tables of knights upon the floor. Jared shook his head as if Edward had without his permission shared a deep secret.

"I have not however given him a choice in the matter, but have _ordered_ him to appear tonight. Thankfully he has accepted, so now I ask everyone to take advantage of this rare opportunity—it may be our only opportunity—to see why he was indeed chosen, and how he has proven successful in this important work—Jared?"

Applause was polite and enough to allow Edward to sit down while Jared stepped to the podium and reached inside his coat pocket for a document. This he unfolded before him, glancing down at it while the king seated himself. Then he looked up, gazing around the great hall and meeting as many eyes as he could from the distance. As he did so she sensed that he was in prayer about what he would say, which made her move to the edge of her seat. Glancing at her father, she saw that he was leaning forward, his chin resting in his hands as he studied Jared carefully.

"Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kind introduction and generous words," he began, his deep voice carrying with strength back into the farthest corner of the hall. "Please everyone, join me in thanking King Edward and Lady Elinor for this evening, as well as everyone who has worked so diligently to make this night a special one."

He waited while a hearty applause resounded, joining it as he turned to face those upon the dias, then the audience. Gripping the podium, he leaned into it, his keen gaze moving around the room before he won their attention once again. "My congratulations also extend to the young women entering society tonight in their debut," he added, looking right at Aileen as he spoke. "I pray that each of you finds your hearts' desire, and that you will each fulfill the destiny for which you were born."

Aileen smiled dazedly as he continued, feeling lulled by the deep pleasant timbre of his voice. Watching him now, she remembered how he had looked fallen in the wood, and how ill he had been the days immediately following his arrival. Compared to now, she sensed that she was listening to a different man, one who had overcome the odds against him and grew stronger for them. And she knew even across the distance that he had changed a great deal in the past year, growing even stronger.

"We must also thank those who contributed to the working out of details outlined in the treaty, our advisors and consultants. This treaty, I am happy to inform you, was signed by a majority of the chieftains of the Marches, as well as by several outlying clan representatives, a miraculous occurrence by no small measure. I also wish to thank the men who traveled with me—my squire Benjamin and the guards who helped bring to fruition this difficult accomplishment. The journey was long and difficult, but you have all worked to your best ability and with relentless dedication for the greater good of us all."

A stir by the right entryway announced the arrival of others, and all eyes turned to the line of men filing into the great hall, all dressed in regalia and with colors boldly stating their origin. Many of them wore the red plaid which was characteristic of the Cymri, yet others walked among them wearing various other plaids. A hush fell over the room as they silently entered, and Jared had paused to watch them without expression. _Did he plan this?_ they all wondered, and when the last one stood in a line before him facing the dias he nodded to them.

"Gentlemen," he greeted them, glancing toward the dias. "By your leave, Your Majesty, allow me to introduce the chieftains of the Marches, who have generously accepted our invitation to join us tonight."

Edward frowned while the table erupted in murmurs of protest, some applauding and many too surprised to respond.

"Please introduce yourselves," Jared encouraged the entourage, who were all of somber expression and tense in their posture. "Give us your names, your clans and origins," he encouraged, nodding for them to begin. After each introduction they moved toward the far wall and seated themselves upon the benches set aside for the dancing which would follow.

Aileen turned to meet her father's shocked expression, but then he beamed happily and shook his head, leaning toward her. "Jared is braver than I imagined," he said quietly, looking forward to nod his approval. She gazed up at him, and his eyes met hers. She felt like running to him and throwing her arms around him, and this he seemed to note.

"Thank you for permitting me that brief formality; I am sure there will be plenty of time afterward to mingle and speak in private among ourselves. If I may, I ask that the servers see to setting places for each of our guests, as quietly and orderly as possible? Yes, thank you..."

Quietly the dining staff took their cue and began to move tables toward the walls while Jared finished gathering his thoughts and looked up. He cleared his throat and continued.

"What better hope could any of us entertain," he proposed, "than to work to the best of our ability toward fulfilling the calling God has given each of us? We all have a calling upon our lives which we must strive to fulfill, whether it be in negotiating a treaty, fighting in battle, training for tournament, birthing a child, healing the sick or interceding in prayer. We also have a calling as a society to fulfill not only our own destiny, but to understand and if possible respect and aid the destiny of others with whom we share our borders."

An ensuing silence indicated that not all shared his vision, though Edward's frown faded as he listened. Jared, to his credit, showed no dismay or emotion whatsoever as he continued.

"As most of you are aware," he continued, "one's calling as a nation has not always been properly understood by others, whatever your tribe or nation may be. There are always hindrances to understanding which are unfortunately common to the human condition—history, isolation, jealousy. What has been accomplished by this effort is the building of bridges between communities. In speaking to each other and spending time together a kind of reconciliation is formed, which hopefully leads to a certain level of trust. It is only a beginning, however. Now we find that we must carefully consider any action that we as a distinct people engage in. We must not forget the mistakes of the past, but live in hope that through honesty and respect for each other we will attain our goals without damaging those of our neighbors, each having their own visions and dream of the future.

"The agreement we have reached calls for the formation of a council comprised of individual representatives from each of these our neighbors. These representatives have agreed to be held accountable to each other, and to the greater confederation. Their main goal is to establish a policy of nonviolence among all those involved. This council will meet on a quarterly basis, rotating in location throughout all the territories thus represented. The duration of each council meeting will be a week, during which problems that arise will be discussed, needs assessed and solutions proposed and hopefully realized. This agreement has been inscribed into written form and signed by all the representative members present tonight. It will be displayed for your examination in the council room of the library, and it is the desire of this court that everyone inspect and accept it as a registered document of this government. We must all do our part to support and fulfill its outlined objectives. Only in this manner can cooperation lead to peace not only within this kingdom but toward our neighbors. I thank you for your time and attention, and bid you a good night."

Edward got up and quickly came to his side, where he placed a hand upon Jared's arm as he faced the audience. "Thank you Sir Jared for that eloquent summary," he said, turning to shake his hand and thus dismiss him. As he made his way back to his seat the room erupted in sudden applause and cheers, which continued until he was seated. Edward waited for order before speaking.

"Now it is time for the meal to be served! After dessert the greeting line for our young ladies will form by the orchestra, at which point I ask you all to join in the celebration and dancing. And do not forget to review the treaty in our library at your earliest convenience."

Artus shook Jared's hand as he sat, again looking exhausted. They began talking quietly as the servers came out with the food, and Aileen watched him slip a finger inside his collar to loosen it as he nodded to Artus. She stared at them, praying to catch his glance, but he was drawn into discussion with those seated around him, Edward even pulling up his chair and carrying his plate of food to that end of the table. Disappointed yet recognizing how busy he was, she wondered if they would ever get a chance to speak or, as her father suggested, just have fun.

To her dismay two of the visiting chieftains boldly climbed up to the dias and pulled out chairs opposite Jared, and the tension among the leaders was palpable. Jared leaned toward them and a heated discussion ensued, though Edward seemed keenly interested in the progression of the discussion. At least they were dining together, as Jared had suggested. Again she wondered to what new heights his role and his speech would raise him, undoubtedly far above her level of existence.

_Oh Jared, what is happening to you? _she wondered as she poked at her food, _and to us?_

_c. 2008 by Christine Levitt_


	6. Chapter 6 The Dance

_**Chapter 6 The Dance**_

Frustrated by the direction of the discussions at his table, Jared leaned back in his chair and gazed around the great hall. Now that dinner had ended the tables were being moved aside to clear the floor for dancing, he'd lost track of where Aileen was. Now that Edward had involved himself more ardently he felt free to leave. He saw that Queen Elinor stood by the refreshment table gesturing to the chaperones to assemble their charges. The musicians were already preparing their instruments for the dancing off to his right, and even Artus was leaving his friends to climb back up the dias. Taking the opportunity to stand and stretch his stiff leg, Jared started toward the stairs.

"You should have joined us," Artus stated, meeting him at the stairs and glancing toward his half-full plate. "Do you plan on finishing that?" he commented.

Jared glanced back toward his place, where de Clare was leaning over his vacated chair to argue with Edward. "I hadn't realized I'd left it, but no, I think not."

At that moment both men stopped their discussion and Artus lifted a hand of farewell. "I'm sorry my men, but I must pull him to discuss another pressing matter."

Edward nodded while de Clare shrugged. "Fine with me—it looks like the time to stake a claim on the ladies," he stated as he got to his feet.

"We can continue this conversation on the morrow," Edward nodded, turning to the elderly chieftain on his other side.

They turned to descend the stairs, and glancing toward the near entry Jared spied her with her friend Serena. Trying not to show his discomfort, he followed Artus onto the floor while de Clare passed them on his way toward the receiving line. Frowning, Jared measured the distance between de Clare and Aileen, thinking he should have lined up sooner.

"I didn't realize we talked for so long," he commented, gaining a snort from Artus.

"You mean _he_ went on so long," he corrected, grimacing at the man's brash behavior. "How do you manage to restrain yourself from punching him?"

Jared glanced at him, surprised by his keen observation skills. "Was I that obvious?"

"Not to those who don't know you well," he said with a grin. "We've all decided it must be that iron will of yours which keeps you in check."

"You haven't seen me in the Marches," he replied, longing for more generous amounts of patience and longsuffering.

"I regret that, more than you know," Artus stated.

"Surprisingly, much can be gained by listening," Jared explained, "especially when the other party is not inclined to do so."

"I see—but now we must discuss that pressing matter to which I referred," he said while they paused to let a group of servers pass by with a long table. He turned to face him, his back to the receiving line where de Clare shuffled impatiently.

"I assumed that was just an excuse to rescue me from the dias—"

"What are you going to do about Aileen?"

He stared at Artus a moment, his gaze shifting involuntarily toward her. She was facing in a different direction, nodding to her chaperone's obvious lecture. "Aileen?"

Artus lifted a brow in challenge, and by the look on his face Jared knew there was no use denying that she had become a concern.

"I haven't decided _to_ do anything."

"But you want to."

Sighing in frustration, he saw her turn and take note of them standing in the middle of the crowded floor. "It is unclear whether or not I have that freedom." _Otherwise I would have, long ago._

"Why on earth not?" Artus complained, glancing toward the queen, who was watching them very carefully, her glance diverting immediately to the subject of their conversation.

"I think you know the reason," Jared said quietly.

"She's very fond of you, and surely you know how her father has always championed your cause."

At the mention of Neal, Jared saw that he was deep in discussion with a couple whose objective seemed to be explaining to him an ailment of the man's back. "You forget that I am bound to Edward's service."

"And if you weren't?"

Jared hesitated, then started toward the line. "We cannot have this discussion—"

"Surely you are of noble birth," Artus continued, following close at his side.

Remembering all that he'd once had and lost, Jared avoided his gaze. "I was."

"And your position in this court is obvious one of great influence, which means that there is no reason for you to be concerned. Edward compensates all his officials quite generously, I've heard."

Jared glanced at him with one brow raised. "Forgive me, Madam," he soothed, "I was not aware that you were chaperoning tonight," he said, glancing meaningfully toward the elderly woman at Aileen's side.

"Chaperone—me?" Artus choked back a laugh. "Why would you think that?"

"Your negotiations on Aileen's behalf are quite telling," he stated, enjoying the opportunity to get him back for all the practical jokes Artus had played on him, a few of which having actually succeeded. "Most chaperones are however a bit older than yourself."

"Maybe I am!" he laughed, slapping Jared's back and drawing Elinor's attention yet again. "I've known her long enough."

"How long?" Jared wondered as they came to the end of the lengthy line. "Since we were children—she tends to treat me like a brother, so I am understandably involved."

"Then I commiserate with her lot in life," he replied, shifting his weight onto his good leg.

"Ah but she trusts me nevertheless," he said conspiratorially, tucking something into Jared's breast pocket. "And so to you I entrust her dance card on the condition that you aid me in fulfilling her request for protection from the more disgusting candidates waiting to meet her—"

"I cannot accept this," he objected, pulling it from his pocket.

"I suggest you fill in every line," Artus insisted, shoving the card back where he'd placed it, "if you care for her as a f_riend_."

Jared glanced toward the place where she stood, her eyes meeting theirs with a pleading look. _Rescue me?_ it asked them just as a very young boy shook her hand forcefully.

Artus grimaced at the sight. "She will refuse every poor sop that approaches her," he stated, "even the more acceptable ones. At least _you_ would have a chance—"

"You are forgetting our previous discussion on that matter—"

"—and remember: if she refuses to dance at all her reputation will only suffer more."

"This is no joking matter," Jared frowned. "I am also on display, and certainly not at liberty to socialize, especially tonight—or haven't you noticed Elinor watching me like a hawk?"

"But Aileen is counting on me—on us!"

"I doubt she would approve of the way you're pressing me on the matter."

"Of course she wouldn't, and if she finds out she'll slip some herb into my food to make me sick for days!"

Jared frowned, noting Edward's keen gaze upon them. "Maybe you deserve it."

"You don't know that side of her—"

_Oh yes I do. _He shook his head, attempting to hold his position on the subject despite the weight of her gaze.

Artus glanced in her direction and they watched her expression change to suspicion. "If she finds out we even had this conversation, I'm doomed."

Jared shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing toward Neal. "…I don't know."

"What harm is there in claiming her?" Artus wanted to know. "Edward won't prevent you—he did nothing about that little trick you pulled, inviting the chieftains here without his permission."

It was true, he had to admit as they heard the music start with a lively jig. The dance area was already crowded with couples, and when he glanced back up the line he saw that Neal was leading her onto the floor while her potential partners waited for her return, including them.

"I thought we were discussing a few dances," he commented, returning his attention to Artus' worried frown. "Not an outright claim."

Artus shook his head. "Poor Neal—he doesn't realize what harm he's doing."

Jared could see the attention they were drawing as all eyes seemed to focus upon the choices each debutante had made for their first dance. Over in the corner were three women who were pointing and laughing at Aileen, leaning the heads close and no doubt planning an attack.

"I had to invite the chieftains," he said more to change the subject. "Though Prince Llewellyn did not bother to attend."

Artus stared at him as if he had just sprouted two heads. "You invited Llewellyn?" he croaked. "How could you do that?"

Jared smiled enigmatically. "He happens to be the key to the treasure, like it or not."

Artus glanced toward the dias, below which all the chieftains were lining up as if to bid him a formal farewell—all except de Clare, who was next in Aileen's line. Jared moved toward the front but Artus caught his arm.

"You're too late," he smiled, meeting his gaze. "And you are not leaving this line, Sir. Besides, you don't want to face Edward's wrath once they're gone."

Jared turned away, realizing the wisdom of his suggestion. "You're probably right—but if I had asked his permission he would have declined it. They had to be invited, to help reinforce the offer of good will."

"But Llewellyn has openly defied Edward on various occasions," Artus continued. "What if he had actually come? You risk ending up with your head on a pike, courtesy of the king."

"I doubt Edward would resort to that," Jared stated blandly. "He needs me now, whether he will admit it or not."

Artus sighed, glancing toward the king as he rose to accompany the chieftains out. "He does seem to tolerate your presence, for reasons unknown."

"I hope you now realize what you are asking me to do by involving Aileen in all this."

Artus eyed him doubtfully. "We both know you will leave here at your earliest opportunity," he answered. "And I've seen the way you look at her."

Jared diverted his attention to the exit as he continued.

"You are her best option, Jared, unless of course you're already married."

Jared shook his head. "No, I am not."

"Engaged?"

"No."

"Arranged?"

Jared pursed his lips. "Desist, Artus."

"Then admit it! You actually like her, and she's certainly not hard to look at."

"I do like her," he admitted, choosing not to comment upon the latter, for it was no one's concern how attractive he found her.

"Just look around and see what there is to offer a woman like her," Artus continued, shaking his head. "They don't _understand _her, or value her—she could very well end up as the gossips predict!"

They watched Aileen's father lead her back to her place, where de Clare stood watching with a predatory gleam in his eye. Jared tensed, almost wishing Llewellyn had come instead of de Clare. His only concern in inviting the chieftains was that they would watch him to discern where his weaknesses lay. And as he studied the tense smile upon Aileen's face, he admitted that she was his one weakness. But thankfully the others had left without taking note.

She curtsied to de Clare but looked in their direction with a brave smile as he grasped her hand.

"Am I wrong?" Artus asked as they moved up in line.

Jared studied the candidates stretched out before her, then again met her hopeful glance. "No," he stated, "you're not wrong."

_**Aidan de Clare took her hand between his, **_making Aileen wish that she had left her gloves on. His palms were sweaty and his lustful gaze traveled over her person. Cringing inwardly, she felt her worst fears coming to fruition. He avoided her eyes but studied her form as if purchasing a brood mare, and she wondered why she had given in to Elinor's pressure to finally make her debut. She could have run away to Aunt Claire's for a time, pretending she needed her to nurse her back to health, though in truth her aunt was more robust and healthy than many people half her age. Now she was trapped, no more prepared for it at one-and-twenty than she'd been at sixteen. As de Clare finally looked up she asked politely concerning his journey here, finding it difficult when his eyes moved everywhere else. His replies were clever, though, but he asked her nothing about herself and she longed for the next person in line to interrupt. The man did seem interested in the woman at her side, however, and when he began to study her she saw Jared and Artus move closer. But there were at least a dozen other men in line ahead of them.

"I've not seen too many women of intelligence," de Clare complimented her, and she was forced to meet his gaze once again. _Seen?_

She smiled as she gently pulled her hand from between his and clutched her skirts to dip into a farewell curtsy, hopefully dismissing him for the next in line. Though she was aware of the fact that Jared had invited him she decided that she had honoured his decision by being polite long enough.

"It was a pleasure to meet you," she said, dismayed when he seemed to ignore her discrete signals to move on.

"Cymri women are not as attractive, yet I find them stronger and braver than Saxon women," he smirked. Thankfully the knight at his side nudged him with his arm, his gaze hopeful as he stared at her for attention.

"Perhaps we might discuss the differences between our culture with a dance?" de Clare suggested, though he was already staring at the woman at her side.

"Good night," she said sweetly, already lifting her hand toward the knight. He snorted rudely and grabbed the next woman's hands in a similar fashion, repeating the exact same words to her.

"Mistress Aileen—you cannot know how I _worship_ your father," the knight gushed, forcefully shaking her hand as if she was a fellow knight. She glanced toward the sound of hysterical laughter and saw Roanna and her friends cut into line in front of Jared and Artus, effectively distracting them.

"I am Marcus Lyonne of Chepstow," the knight announced, "and I've arrived to participate in the upcoming tournament. We could have more opportunity to speak if you would honour me with a dance?"

She parted her lips to object but he continued, bragging about his skills and why he would be the next champion in jousting. Absently searching for her father with furtive glances, she heard the fourth dance begin and felt the knight squeeze her hand painfully, though she tried to pull it from his iron like grip.

"I would love for you to give me some token of your support, if not a dance," he suggested, and she wanted to stuff her handkerchief in his mouth. Instead she smiled sweetly and turned to the next candidate.

"How wonderful to make your acquaintance," the boy smirked, and she recognized one of the ruffians who delighted in bullying the other children of the keep.

"You! How did you sneak into this line—"

"I just shoved _him_ and got in!" he snickered, pointing rudely to the elderly man peering around his shoulder. He was even shorter than the boy.

"Shall I call the guard?" she threatened with a smile, feeling Jared's eyes upon her.

"I'm eligible!"

"You must be twelve!" she protested, trying not to laugh despite his rudeness. Truly the whole matter was ridiculous, and she couldn't blame him for mocking it.

He tilted his head back as if to consider her worth as a mate. "I _could_ ask you to dance, but that's for sissies!"

She straightened to her greatest height, which was only a few centimeters above his, folding her arms. "Who said I would accept?"

He reddened and shrugged, but nevertheless tried the prank on the next woman while Aileen politely shook the elderly man's hand. As she listened to his prolonged greeting she stole a glimpse at Jared, who was removing Roanna's hand from his foream.

When the elderly man moved on she blew a tendril of hair off her forehead. "That was certainly much easier!" she whispered over her shoulder. Her chaperone frowned in disapproval and drew closer.

"Might I suggest you try a bit more ladylike behavior!" she scolded. "How do you expect to gain a suitor if you do not say more than a few sentences, dance or have anything to do with any of them?"

Distracted by the pointed stares Roanna shot her, Aileen smiled. "But you saw that 12 year old …"

_**Roanna of Edenwood gripped his sleeve next,**_ slowing his progress toward Aileen and ignoring his removal of her hand from his arm. They had met before beneath the willows and he recognized her type at once, promptly discouraging her flirtatious behavior then. Now he watched somberly as she fluttered her eyelashes at him, nodding curtly to her comments concerning his speech.

"It was well worth the effort," he explained, disapproving of her condescending statements bemoaning his arduous journeys to the less desirable lands of the Marches.

"You must be _so_ exhausted," she cooed, smiling seductively at him.

He glanced away, shoving his hands on his pockets just to keep her from touching him.

"He is exhausted," Artus quipped, turning her attention to himself and giving Jared a chance to breathe a sigh of relief. "Much too exhausted to play your little games, Roanna."

She laughed merrily, clutching his arm with both hands as they moved up in line. Her friends, Jared noted, stood smiling but apparently having nothing to say. Their eyes moved suggestively over them and every other man he saw standing nearby.

"Then I trust you are both enjoying the festivities, after all your hard work," she soothed.

"Yes, Mother," Artus joked, stepping out of line. "In fact, why don't we all go get a drink and decide who will dance with me next?"

She gestured for her friends to follow them, glancing up at Jared with a smile. "What about your little friends, Aileen and Serena?" she asked innocently.

"They will be fine," Artus answered, nodding goodbye to Jared as he wandered off toward the punch bowl, clearly in charge of the situation.

Jared watched them leave, moving closer to Aileen. Roanna was a striking woman, he had to admit, but she reminded him of a desert snake. There was a malicious aspect of her character which he found extremely distasteful, and added to her flirtatious behavior she was clearly someone to avoid at all costs.

"You do well to avoid that one," the man directly in front of him said upon turning. "She was married to an older gentleman who died a year afterward, leaving her penniless."

Startled and sure that he preferred not to learn such details, Jared nodded forward. "We're moving up."

The man harrumphed rudely and squared his shoulders, confronting Aileen with a bold statement of his attributes when he stood before her that Jared felt like shoving him aside. The more he listened and watched, the more he agreed with Artus's assessment of her situation. As he observed the following candidate's behavior and met Aileen's cool gaze as she responded politely to the man, he felt deep compassion for her but decided what he must do.

_**Aileen watched him move closer in line, his jaw clenched in determination.**_ She didn't want to play this game with him nor watch the other, prettier women flirt with him as Roanna had done. Painfully aware of her plain gown and simple hairstyle, she wanted to break free and run away, but again caught Elinor's eyes upon her. Feeling flushed and thirsty, she focused upon the man standing before her and tried to ignore Jared's silent observation of the interaction.

"I have a vast estate, most wondrously decorated by my first wife," the man told her in a loud voice. She pasted a fake smile upon her lips and nodded.

"She met with an untimely death, poor dear," he moaned. "But maybe you'd like a spin on the dance floor, hmmh?"

"From where do you hail, Sir Collins?" she asked politely, though he was already nodding his head at the next girl in line.

"She's prettier, I think," he laughed, still shaking her hand. "What is her name?"

"Constance," she supplied, smiling at the girl who turned upon hearing her name. The man took her hand but would not release hers, though she tugged at it and even used her other hand to pry it from hers.

"Lady Aileen, what a pleasure to see you again," a loud voice declared, startling the man, who turned and looked up at Jared in surprise. Releasing Aileen's hand, he moved toward Constance, who frowned at Jared but greeted him with a radiant smile.

"Sir Jared!" Aileen gasped in relief as he clasped her hand, absently pulling a strand of hair from where it had caught between her lips. She watched his gaze follow the gesture as she searched for a proper way to thank him without being too obvious. "How wonderful it is to see you again!"

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, a formality which she had endured all evening but at his touch felt a warm, tingling sensation travel up her arm.

"You look radiant tonight," he said softly, glancing apologetically at Constance's frown. His eyes shot back to hers as he lowered her hand, keeping it in his. "Perhaps you might join me for a bit of refreshment?" he suggested.

"I would be honoured, sir," she breathed, glancing up at him in thanksgiving as he effectively removed her from the competition.

His eyes lit with warmth before he turned to lead them to the beverage table. She studied the broad expanse of his shoulders, admiring the command with which he had stepped in and intervened on her behalf. She studied the crossed ribbons of sapphire encircling his shoulders as he patiently wove a path for them through the crowds. Upon finding the table similarly surrounded, he nevertheless managed to procure a glass of wine for her. This she accepted from him with a slight curtsy and smile of thanks, earning a curt nod of his head as he turned for his own. Taking a few swallows, she studied his stern profile and the way his dark hair waved over his temple. When he lifted a glass to his lips their eyes met and held. In them she read admiration for her efforts, frustration at the noise and packed room, and determination to find a quieter, less crowded space for them. As he nodded toward some unknown destination she felt his hand brush and clasp hers, then tug her there. For the first time all day she began to relax.

They moved closer together once he had them stationed by the open doors leading to the garden, but no further. Bending his toward hers, he looked into her eyes with concern.

"How are you managing?" he asked, nodding when she replied.

"Much better now, thank you."

She noted how his eyes lifted to scan their surroundings, returning to hers. "It's much cooler here," he said, sounding relieved himself.

She looked up at him with a smile. "Thank you for rescuing me...I hope Artus wasn't too much of a nuisance."

"My pleasure," he said, holding her gaze as he took another swallow. "You have a good protector in Artus, if I might say."

"I do," she breathed, glancing around for a sign of him. "He is like an older brother to me."

Returning her attention to him she found his eyes already upon her. She knew how ill prepared she was for the challenge of winning and holding his attention, but sensed that the required polite and trivial conversations which were the norm would only bore him, based upon the keen and eloquent speech he had delivered.

"I was very moved by your speech," she said without preamble, noting how his gaze shifted back toward the dias where Edward still stood discussing matters of state with his advisors. From time to time he would glance Jared's way, which troubled her more than she admitted.

"Thank you," he replied, a nerve in his jaw pulsing. Then he met her gaze with a challenge in his expression. "May I ask how?"

A bit unsettled by his direct manner, she took another sip of wine and prepared a fit response. "When you spoke of the greater vision one must seek in order to maintain a society, I could not help but be reminded of your coming here, and thus compare it with your present success. I find your own example to be truly inspiring."

He looked away. "I have only done what was necessary, and what Edward has required of me."

"I disagree," she shot back, winning his gaze back. "You have accomplished something which Edward himself could not do."

His brows lifted over his grey-green eyes. "Take care with such opinions, Lady Aileen," he warned softly, glancing meaningfully toward the king. "I wouldn't want you to suffer for them."

She felt herself blush with embarrassment, but lifted her chin. "I am honored that you consider them of weight," she answered, "for they do not travel as far as yours."

"Are you sure about that?" he said close to a whisper, his eyes moving over her countenance.

She shrugged. "Even if they did, they would surely be discounted as frivolity, issuing from the mouth of a mere woman."

His eyes darkened moodily. "You mustn't belittle yourself," he said, taking another sip of wine, "nor exaggerate my role in the process."

She leaned closer, her eyes lifting to the king, whose attention was currently elsewhere. "Yet Edward himself has just made much of your contribution."

He gazed down into her uplifted smile, his jaw tight. "There is still much work to do."

She frowned, wondering why he did would not acknowledge the credit given him and thinking there must be an underlying explanation. "Perhaps I misunderstand," she offered. "I'm sorry to have trespassed into unknown territory."

"Don't be," he advised, throwing back his head to drain his glass. Her eyes were drawn to the strong column of his neck, but she quickly averted her gaze before he reached past her to set it down. He pursed his lips in frustration. "Perhaps we might discuss this more freely another time—I do not wish to ruin your evening."

"You've salvaged my evening," she laughed softly, glancing back toward the receiving line where her other inductees still stood, writing in the dance cards. It occurred to her that Artus still held hers, and she wondered when he would be around to claim his first dance.

"Then dance with me," he said quietly.

She looked up into his stormy expression, and found herself nodding. "All right," she agreed, "but I'm afraid I dance poorly."

"I don't dance at all," he stated, grasping her hand.

"I didn't think you did," she answered, once again following him, this time into the crowd which stood fanning themselves, laughing and waiting for the music to begin again. They had just finished a lively circle dance and she heard the musicians tuning their instruments for the next.

Her feet were sore but the rush lights were soft and the flower-strewn floor lent a heady fragrance to the night while the music indicated a slow dance which required less concentration. Smiling up at him, she let him lift her hand as she moved into the circle of his arm. Threading her fingers through his she placed her palm upon his back. Tilting her head up she met his gaze as his hand reached for her waist and they began to move slowly through the simple dance. Back in forth they moved in a small circle, so crowded was the floor with dancers. His expression was guarded as he looked into her eyes, but she dared to reach for the sapphire sash crossing his lapel, fingering it with interest.

"This color is strangely familiar," she hinted, smiling up at him.

His expression relaxed a bit before he glanced toward the dias. "I thought you might recognize it."

She wanted to ask him about its meaning, but decided against it. "Does anyone else?"

He met her gaze and guided her hand to its original position. "I doubt it," he sighed in frustration. "It is only known in certain parts of my country."

"Did Edward insist you wear your colours?"

"Yes—he was quite adamant concerning it."

"How interesting," she mused, spreading her fingers down the ridge behind his shoulder. "One would think he would prefer you melt into the crowd."

"I doubt that," he replied.

"It seems contradictory of him."

"Aileen—" he warned, glancing toward Edward's sudden regard.

"He has designated you his man and our ambassador," she continued, "yet he forces you to display the very thing which makes you different from us."

"Take care," he advised as he swept her around, placing himself between her and Edward's scrutiny. "We mustn't be found speaking against the monarchy."

"Of course not," she sighed, testing her fingers inside his tightening grip. He glanced down at their joined hands and immediately loosened his grip.

"Forgive me," he said softly, "I was unaware of causing you any discomfort."

"All is forgiven," she smiled up at him, watching his eyes fire with interest before he drew her closer.

"I do confess great curiosity concerning your previous comment," he whispered, a smile tugging his lips.

"Perhaps we should also save that for another time," she hinted, eyeing his sash. "For aside from your colours there appears to be another matter which must be addressed."

He gazed at her with open interest. "I was not aware there was another problem, beside my stiff gait and gripping your hand too tightly."

She glanced down at his leg, looking up at him with an impish grin. "I hadn't noticed your gait, but now that you mention it, how is your leg?"

He smiled enigmatically, turning her again. "I suppose well enough to dismiss at present."

"Then we must move on to the next problem—your height."

"Ah," he breathed, lifting her hand so that she could turn beneath his arm for the conclusion of the dance. Circling and returning to him she smiled, deciding she liked dancing very much. He moved with surprising grace for a warrior. "I would have thought it would be to your advantage for this particular dance."

"Oh it is," she admitted, "for in training if one's male partner is too short his elbow oftentimes strikes the female partner in the head."

"I see—and in our case?"

She sighed with exaggerated discomfort. "Though it has not yet occurred, over time the partner of shorter stature suffers a sore neck from gazing too high in order to maintain eye contact."

He laughed and spun her around again as the dance drew to a close. "I see the problem, but unfortunately I cannot easily correct it."

"There is no need, for the advantages outweigh the disadvantages."

They applauded along with the other dancers and stood waiting for the next dance. "Then enlighten me," he urged her. "I prefer to focus upon the positive."

She leaned closer, again noting the pleasant woody scent which clung to his shirtfront. "One can more easily spot the head which rises above the crowd, thus marking your location."

_**He restrained himself from laughing aloud, once again reminding himself not to stare at her. **_It was difficult for she looked stunning, her color high from the dancing. Her skin was usually a bit pale but perfect, its texture soft appearing. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and he felt his eyes drawn to the dusky pink tint of her lips. Her luscious hair was swept up in a simple fashion, held in place by three jeweled combs, one of which tended to slip downward and release tendrils which tickled her cheeks and shoulders. Her neck was gracefully long, accented by a simple necklace that was elegant and a perfect match for her pale green gown. Compared to the glaring allure of so many of the other women, her makeup was subtle, highlighting her almond shaped eyes and wide but feminine mouth. Her fragrance was the same one he remembered from the weeks during which she had aided his recovery, and he realized how long it had been since he'd enjoyed its fresh allure. Her gown accented her slim but alluring figure, its neckline only hinting at her curves rather compared to the blatant style currently in fashion.

All this provoked within him a protective streak, yet at the same time he had to admit she aroused the desire he'd thought lay long dormant deep within him. Painfully aware of the fact that tonight she was making her debut, he found that the prospect of a suitor winning her hand filled him with cold dread and unexplained irritation. Remembering that once he'd feared she had married and mothered Jeremy, he also recalled how relieved he'd been to discover that she had not. Over the course of the evening it had become obvious to him that Elinor and Edward expected all who made their debut must seal their matches as soon as possible, including hers. Though he knew that she cared nothing for that requirement, he felt uneasy when considering her future and who would indeed be deciding it.

"You are a very capable dancer, Sir Jared," she grinned, "despite your wounds."

He remembered seeing her discretely remove one shoe and rub her foot as if it pained her while in the receiving line. Bowing his head in acknowledgement, he could not help adding: "So do you, despite your heels."

She laughed, placing her hand upon his forearm before snapping her gaze up to his. "I'm sorry," she apologized, removing it promptly. "I don't know what made me do that."

He reached for it and squeezed her hand against the folds of her gown where it was less noticeable. "I do," he said softly, his eyes holding hers.

In that moment he felt something powerful and wonderful flow between them, and by the look in her eyes he knew she sensed it too. It was something neither of them had anticipated or had any business feeling. One glance toward Edward revealed his narrowed gaze settled upon them. A flood of defiance rose up within him as he held Edward's gaze, deciding that being with Aileen even for this moment was worth it, even though it might win him banishment to the Marches for good.

"Jared, what's wrong?" she asked softly, interrupting his thoughts.

He looked back into her eyes and attempted a smile. "Nothing, shall we go?"

She glanced toward Edward and lifted her chin. "A breath of fresh air would be most welcome."

He nodded and escorted her along with many other couples out onto the patio. The night air was indeed welcomingly cool. They strolled toward the gardens, pausing to look down upon the glittering streams cutting through the fields. Fireflies blinked among the grasses, lending a magical quality to the night.

Aileen crossed her arms and absently rubbed them, her expression troubled as she gazed out into the darkness. He promptly removed his jacket and settled it over her shoulders. She looked up at him in silent thanks, drawing it closer before she gazed off past his shoulder at the other couples speaking quietly to each other. From inside the music continued, as did the gaiety. As the silence lengthened between them he leaned an elbow upon the stone wall and studied her profile.

"Now there is something wrong," he stated, watching her carefully.

She straightened and glanced his way, smiling in apology. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"You _were_ thinking," he said softly, "quite earnestly."

She bit her lower lip. "It was rude of me...I'm—"

"Don't apologize," he interrupted, turning to gaze out beyond the confines of the keep. "You need not force conversation if you prefer to dream."

She turned to face him, pulled his jacket tighter as she looked up at him. "You certainly speak your mind, Sir Jared," she complimented him.

He glanced back at her. "It saves time."

She sighed in frustration, shaking her head. "I should be better at sharing all the conversational elements in which I was trained."

He frowned. "Sometimes silence says a great deal more."

She stared up at him, absently fingering his jacket. "I agree."

_**Across the room Elinor gripped her husband's arm,**_ leaning closer as they both gazed out toward the patio.

"What are you going to do?" she whispered, knowing that his eyes were on the same couple.

He sighed with regret, shaking his head. "They'll do nothing, left to themselves."

She nodded. "I suppose it will solve two problems at once."

"You may be right," he replied, switching his gaze to his physician as he patted her hand. "I'll be right back to escort you back."

She smiled. "Take your time, dear."

_**Neal turned to go back inside for Aileen, knowing however that she would be detained by her chaperone to review the progress made this night.**_ He felt badly about having promised her more dances and being unable to keep that promise. So many of his patients chose this night of all nights to approach him with complaints or questions, yet now that he had a moment to collect his thoughts he worried anew concerning her future. They had both been through so much pain with losing her mother that he longed to see her settled with her own family, yet he wasn't sure that this was the best way in which to assure her that. As he passed the garden he saw someone coming toward him and prepared himself for the worst. If he had to leave now to tend to the ill, Aileen would be sorely disappointed. And he didn't with to leave her in there all alone.

"There you are, sir," he heard Jared greet him, and they both stepped into the moonlight at the same time. "I've been searching for you inside."

Neal shook his hand again and sighed mightily. "I just needed some air—it's far too crowded for me in there."

Jared nodded soberly. "I agree."

"That was quite a speech you made," he stated, studying the man. "I understand why Edward chose you for diplomatic service."

"Thank you," Jared answered. "Though there is much more involved than choosing the proper words; I hardly feel up to the task, to be honest."

Neal nodded, sensing that neither of them truly wished to pursue that topic. "I can only imagine," he breathed, nodding in assent. "By the way, did you happen to notice how Aileen is faring?"

"I did—she managed well, though I sense she is greatly relieved to have the night behind her."

Neal sighed in frustration. "She made me promise to dance with her, but I was unfortunately prevented. Though I believe that may have harmed her chances."

Jared massaged the back of his neck, nodding in silent agreement.

Neal studied him a moment. "Perhaps I shouldn't assume your leg has fully recovered, but I wondered if you might have considered offering yourself as a dance partner."

Jared almost smiled before he breathed out a tense breath. "Now that was a masterful stroke in strategy, Dr. Carrick."

Neal chuckled as well. "You think so? It had occurred to me to ask about your leg, though perhaps in the wrong order of priority."

"We did dance, in fact—though I'm sure you recognize the position in which I find myself."

Neal nodded, understanding completely. "For a man who invited the chieftains from the Marches, I assumed one more risky move wouldn't hurt too much?"

Jared sobered immediately, glancing away. "I'm afraid that it was a risk, though not to myself as much as to Aileen's."

Neal sighed greatly, rubbing his face in frustration. "May we be frank Jared?"

He glanced back and nodded. "Please do."

"I recognize the delicacy of your position, but something tells me that you will not be in it for much longer."

Jared gazed off into the darkness, the tension in him palpable. "You are the second person to predict that in one night."

"Aileen trusts you," he stated, waiting for Jared's attention. When he had it, he nodded. "And so do I."

Jared narrowed his gaze, clearly troubled. "Would I have your permission to ask for her hand?"

Neal held his unreadable expression. "_Are_ you asking for it?"

Their gazes dueled a moment before Jared laughed shortly and glanced away. "She would have several things to say concerning this conversation, none of which would be pleasant."

"Aileen is of age," Neal emphasized. "And she certainly has her own mind."

"I realize that, sir."

"She is too like me, I'm afraid," he said regretfully. "Her mother died when she was ten, and although I've tried my best, raising a girl alone is a daunting task."

Jared met his gaze. "She is a lovely young woman."

Neal eyed him meaningfully. "She hasn't learned the delicate arts of innuendo and manipulation which other women her age have already mastered…in this court that is unfortunately seen as a weakness."

Jared straightened. "Sir, what are you saying?"

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at this sort of thing, having had no experience." Gaining no response, h continued. "I am saying that if you were to ask for her hand, I would give it heartily…and I think we both know that so would she."

Jared looked away, shaking his head in disbelief. "Everyone acts as if I am a free man, when in truth I am in exile, caught between the divisions of my own people and this court!"

"Are you, Jared?" Neal said gently, waiting for his attention. "The way you handled things tonight, I would say you are in exactly the right place."

"There are many things left unresolved," Jared disagreed, finally looking at him. "How can I ask her to share my hardship and suffering?"

Neal sighed tiredly, leaning an elbow upon the wall as he faced him. "Tonight you spoke about destiny—yet could it be that you have not truly considered your own?"

"I have considered it, at great length," he stated. "Yet I still haven't found the answer."

Neal gripped his arm and squeezed it encouragingly. "We all have faith in you, Jared: Edward has placed you in a position where you have the opportunity to find the answers you need. I believe you have the strength to overcome all these obstacles, and help others overcome theirs."

He turned to study him, looking doubtful. "Are you willing to have your daughter involved in such a dangerous process?"

"She has already involved herself, Jared—it is up to you to take the next step."

_c. 2008 by Christine Levitt_


	7. Chapter 7 The Lesson

_**Chapter 7 The Lesson**_

Staring out the window of his new quarters, Jared studied the huge orb of the moon and faced the fact that he was not going to fall to sleep. It was a common affliction, he well knew, one which plagued others at his level of service. It was not that he had trouble falling to sleep, but rather staying in that state. At the most he was granted three hours before awakening suddenly for no apparent reason. He'd tried various known and proven cures on his own, yet to no avail. Like tonight, his mind warred with decisions and fears that continually arose. These left him feeling restless despite his exhaustion, and he knew that of late he was plagued with aches in his head and the resultant short temper which seemed to accompany them. Returning to Shrewsbury should have afforded him the stability and rest he so desperately needed, but it seemed to have done otherwise. At least out in the meadows and foothills he could sleep soundly, but living in this keep was becoming too difficult to manage. Since his return for the celebration and Aileen's debut he'd entered far more dangerous territory than that of the Marches, but of quite a different sort.

_What if she has chosen a suitor?_ he wondered, staring up at the stars as if to find an answer in them. _Worse, what if Edward and her father force an arranged marriage?_

By word of Artus's unsolicited report she had already received three offers but declined them all. This information was either truth or gossip, he knew not, yet the danger still existed. Artus indicated that Aileen was running out of time and her reasons for refusal were no longer considered acceptable by Elinor's standards. The last one made by de Clare had met an early death, yet Aileen's reason for declining him were that the man would not despite his wealth treat her as a wife of a nobleman deserved—with honour and respect. Apparently Elinor had watched him carefully and seemed to concur, at least for the time being. Yet it was Neal who had welcomed de Clare's offer, and Jared had the feeling that it was because he himself had not offered for her hand. Despite their conversation outside that night and his excises why he could not do so, Neal seemed to also have lost patience with his daughter's status.

As for his own, still no ransom or pardon from Edward' hand has been issued on his behalf, leaving him at an impasse, denied freedom for himself and certainly denied the right to offer anyone a future. Although he kept petitioning Edward to release his brothers his efforts were ignored. Apparently they were both offered ransom from Prince Llewellyn himself, which Edward had also denied. Though he struggled with resentment and anger toward them and toward Edward, he could not blame the king for protecting himself. As for any word from his father or clan, none had issued forth. The only explanation was that his father had chosen to leave his sons' fates to their own devices, which truly did not surprise him.

All this caused him considerable uneasiness, added to his upcoming trip back to the Marches for an indefinite stay while enforcement of the treaty was attempted. Draping an arm over his head he turned onto his side, closed his eyes and started to count forward. This was one of the cures which had sometimes worked in the past, yet by the time he reached 100 he felt only frustration. Heaving a great sigh he moved to his back and crossed his hands beneath his head and concentrated upon the heavenly realm wherein he hoped to find some amount of peace.

The stars aligning themselves with the moon this night were clearly visible, and set against a backdrop of other constellations provided a dazzling display. It was daunting task studying them, yet he had taken pleasure in the subject often back home. So many of them set against the blackness of space created a truly beautiful world of silence and stillness he found fascinating. He recalled how in his youth he'd slept beneath the stars many times just to study the night sky, and he realized how long it had been since he'd enjoyed such simple pleasures. Now the memory of those days and his current situation made him feel alone and empty inside. But feelings weren't everything, and he knew at least in his mind that no one was truly alone. At that thought he recalled the ancient passages he'd once committed to memory, whispering them into the lonely confines of his quarters.

_I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you should go;_

_I will give you counsel; my eyes will be upon you._

_Many are the afflictions of the wicked,_

_But grace surrounds those who trust in the LORD._

He must believe in his own destiny, as he had lectured in his speech and as Neal had reminded him later...no matter how hopeless it seemed.

A knock upon the outer door startled him, and he rose quickly to pull on a shirt. "Who goes?" he called once there.

"A courier for Sir Jared," came the muffled reply.

Pulling open the door he found a page standing there holding out a missive for him and looking half asleep. "You Sir Jared?" he asked carefully.

"I am," he replied, taking the parchment and eyeing the boy as he broke the seal.

"You were awake," the page accused with the guilelessness of youth.

Jared glanced up as he read it. "I could say the same of you."

"It's my job, Sir—having trouble sleeping?"

Jared sighed at the contents, lowering his hand. "To my regret, yes—what is your name?"

"Stephens, Sir," he answered, nodding toward the missive. "Would you like to send back a reply?"

Jared shook his head and tossed him a coin. "You're dismissed—get some rest, Stephens."

The boy grinned and took off. After closing the door he leaned back against it, pinching the spot between his brows. "Dear God—give me strength."

_**Aileen sat up with a start, looking around her room in confusion**_. Her heart pounded as she threw aside her light blanket, for the power of the dream left her feeling as if it had been real.

"I never dream," she whispered, pulling her hair from the back of her neck in the heat. "Or I just never remembered them." This one was unforgettable, and left her feeing so uneasy that she slid her legs from the bed and slowly rose to go to her window.

Gazing up at the battlement which was only partially in view, she studied its bleak outline as lit by the moonlight. At that moment the black silhouette of the sentry passed between the notches and disappeared, reminding her of how long it had been since she'd last been up there, and with whom. Changing her direction of thought she drew calming breath, slowly inhaling the forbidden night air. Unlike most of her contemporaries she found it clean and cool, not the threat most people feared it to be. As she waited for her body to calm itself she gazed up at the beautiful sky, finally admitting that despite her desire to forget about him she could not. And now he had invaded her dreams.

She'd dreamt of a Jared she did not know, the warrior Jared who fled through mists and darkness fleeing a band of pursuers dressed in mail, not unlike the ones he'd rode here with. His people despised chain mail but had worn it that journey in order to blend in with the tournament crowd and not attract any attention. In her dream they pursued him, and judging by his filthy and damaged clothing it had been through battle. Scarred and bloody, his eyes had looked haunted by unknown terrors as he rode to escape them. Yet they drew closer until suddenly a shaft of light opened above him, bathing him in its brilliance. This startled his pursuers, their horses rearing and screaming in fear. She heard a hissing sound like that of thousands of locusts' wings and then their horses rose from the earth and fled, vanishing suddenly from the dream. But Jared continued riding, never looking back until he climbed the steep summit of a mountain. There he slowed and came to a halt, at which time she appeared at his side upon a grey mare.

She could see herself studying him, dressed in her flowing blue gown. At the sight of a large gash at his temple she leaned forward to touch it gently, gasping at the bloody mat of his hair. Yet when he turned and smiled at her she felt overwhelmed with sudden joy, for his enemies were gone. He reached for her, taking her into his arms as he set her before him in his saddle while she wept and touched him to be sure he was unharmed. Wherever she touched him his skin glowed with white light. Reassured, she watched him stretch out his hand and point into the distance. Together they gazed into a rapidly vanishing darkness as the land was flooded with light, illuminating a path set before them. Marveling at the beauty of the land stretched out below them, the light from the east parted the black clouds and revealed a city gleaming in a white light. Its towers looked like crystal, its gates like jewels of breathtakingly vivid colours. Its walls were milky white, nearly transparent and a warm breeze fanned their faces. And then she heard him sing.

His voice was deep and rich, captivating and strong, and it made her heart soar with pride. He sang in a language she could not discern yet she knew it was a song of praise. His eyes were closed and h is left hand lifted toward heaven, his melody ancient sounding and slowly traveling about a minor scale. As she watched his face the song formed golden letters which drifted upward and hung suspended overhead, and when they started to ride slowly the letters formed words that streamed together, forming a banner stretching toward the city. She clung to his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder as they rode, the breeze lifting golden leaves from the ground to swirl around them. Upon the trees buds sprouted and quickly grew into flowers which released golden and pink dust. This and the petals of blossoms floated downward and rushed toward the city. The sights were beautiful and evoked a deep joy within them, and then she was singing with him, their voices blending well as he turned to smile at her and nodded his head.

_Arise, shine, o beautiful city, _they sang_; I will awake the dawn._

_Awake, you multitudes that sleep in the dust. Awake and sing!_

_Arise, shine, for your light has come!_

Smiling into the darkness of her room, Aileen leaned her arms upon the sill of her window and prayed for him, wondering why she had stopped doing so at his recovery. This was the reason for the dream, she knew, and before she finished she saw a gold band of light at the horizon. It was dawn!

The urge to see him grew so strong that she got up only to stop on her way to change out of her night rail. Realizing that she did not know where his quarters were, as well as how inappropriate it would be for her to call upon him there, she ran a hand through her hair and told herself she was being silly. What would he think of her, rushing to tell him her dream? How childish that would seem, if he did not believe in the power of dreams. But what if he did? Might he be able to interpret it for her?

The dream was a sign that their lives were somehow linked, and aside from it she knew that she must face her feelings for him. She was not a superstitious person, but did believe in dreams and knew they were portrayed in the Holy Scriptures as vital particularly when predicting the future. She did not know Jared's opinion on matters of faith, and she needed to know. If he did not sense how she felt about him, however, he was not as wise as she had already determined him to be.

"I must tell him," she whispered, sitting upon the edge of her bed. "Who knows, perhaps he might feel the same way about me…"

_**Ben pushed open Jared's door three hours after breaking the fast,**_ deciding he'd slept long enough. Trying to balance the tray he'd brought for him, he braced himself for the worst. It was quite possible Sir Jared might be in another one of his foul moods, though he longed for the patient and understanding man Jared had once been. Unloading the tray, he glanced toward the half open door to the bedchamber, rattling a few dishes in hopes of waking him with them rather than a direct confrontation. After waiting a few moments he frowned and headed toward the door, hating the necessity of shaking him awake.

He lay abed, it was true, and judging by his breathing he was sound asleep despite the noise. Upon approaching the bed a furtive glance told him to expect impatience judging by the unusual mess of strewn clothing and books lying open upon the desk. The lantern still glowed at full light, but at least this time Jared had managed to collapse in bed, rather than in the usual chair. Accepting the fact that he had to shake him in order to rouse him, Ben first retrieved the clothing to carry off to the launderers before coming to a halt above the bed. Something had changed the man since the night he gave his speech, though Ben had no idea what that was. He'd been charged with seeing that the chieftains all got off on their journeys without any needs, and after that he'd retired himself. Whatever had occurred must have happened in the interim, and still soured his mood the following few days.

_Maybe today will be different, _he hoped. They had to train again today for the upcoming tournament, and he needed Jared's supervision. It was true that his knight was well respected and that the others held him in secret awe, mostly due to his having gone on crusade and seen combat. So it was with the most respectful touch that Ben planted a hand upon his shoulder and shook it just enough to rouse him.

"Wha—?" he croaked, his arm shooing out to hit Ben's thigh in a painful cut. At the same time his head lifted from the pillow as he turned to see who it was that interrupted his well needed rest.

"Tis me, Sir," Ben said pleasantly, "your faithful servant come to collect your dirty clothes and bring your food—"

"Go 'way," Jared growled, dropping his face back into the pillow with a groan following.

"But sir we've got tournament practice in an hour's time," he announced, holding his breath in the silence which followed. When it became a lengthy one Ben wondered if he could somehow manage to register without Jared's sponsorship. But then again that would cause everyone to know that his lord was still sleeping, and he would not dare to risk that. Everyone knew that Edward had dismissed him for only tournament related duties, and if he did not report for training he would be the laughing stock of the keep before it even started.

"Are ye ill, sir? Because I could go and fetch—"

"I'm not ill!" he protested, sounding to Ben's ears more angry than sick.

"Sorry, sir—I'll make whatever excuses you wish me to—"

"I will meet you there in an hour," was the muffled reply.

"Excellent sir! I'll get your weapons ready posthaste!" he said happily, rushing for the door.

"You do that," was all he heard before he stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him. In his haste he did not lock the door, for Sir Artus was coming toward him in the hall and he was eager to escape him as well.

_**A pounding knock startled Jared from his quick slide back toward sleep.**_ Groaning savagely, he flung himself from the bed and just as violently pulled open the door. Quickly realizing that it was the bedchamber door and not the outer one, he stared into Artus's shocked expression as it quickly transformed into a sly grin.

"What?" Jared demanded when he said nothing, feeling his head throb at the sound of his own voice.

"Bad night?" Artus smirked, watching him snatch up his chausses and turn his back to step into them.

"The worst," he growled, hoping he'd state his business and leave. First Ben, now Artus, and then probably Edward, despite his assurance that tournament was at present a priority. Now that he was up he might as well get ready to report for training exercises.

"I'm amazed to finally find you outside the meeting room," Artus stated, seating himself. "You've been missed."

Jared fastened his waistband and accepted the fact that Artus was here to stay. "By whom?"

"I'll give you one guess," he answered, tossing his gloves onto the table. "And it's not the stable boy reporting in about your horse."

He grabbed a shirt and shrugged into it. "Who else would it be?"

"Aileen," he emphasized in a tone which meant he should have known. 'She's been asking me about you ever since yesterday."

Jared fastened his tunic as he considered this. _Why wouldn't she be angry with me for not contacting her since her debut? _

Artus chuckled. "What, nothing to say? Well I've got plenty to say about the way you­­—"

"Should keep to your own affairs?" Jared suggested, turning to face him.

"Too late—I've already been recruited," he sighed, picking up a piece of trencher bread and biting into it. "One would think you'd be thankful for my assistance."

"Surely you know that de Clare offered for her," Jared explained, running a hand through his hair. "How am I to compete with that, or any other potential suitor, assuming I had the right?"

"There is no competition in _her_ mind," Artus stated.

Jared blew out the lantern. "It is hardly her decision alone."

"I've heard that you and Neal had a talk," he quipped, watching him sit to pull on his hose.

"A private talk."

Artus crossed his arms, studying him a moment. "I've asked Serena to marry me, and she's accepted."

Jared looked up, feeling a bit lightheaded. "I thought that you and Roanna--"

"I only pretend with Roanna to keep her away from Aileen," he waved in dismissal. "I explained this to Serena and she understands—in fact she thinks it quite noble of me."

Jared couldn't help chuckling as he pulled on the other stocking. "Then congratulations—when are the vows?"

"In a year's time, at her family insistence, but we're keeping the news from Aileen right now."

Jared didn't have to ask why, for he could imagine how seeing her younger friends engaged or married might upset her. Bending to pick up his boot he commiserated with her.

_If only I was free…_a small voice in the back of his conscience complained.

"She wants Aileen to be her maid of honour, and I can surely understand why…"

As Artus continued Jared felt a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea, dropping his head to ward it off.

"Are you all right?"

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine, but I need to go—is Aileen the reason you came looking for me?"

"Unfortunately no—I was asked to deliver you a summons."

"Tell Edward I've retired," he groaned, rubbing his temples.

"You're too young to retire."

"Then tell him I've resigned."

"I doubt that's allowed."

"Then tell him I escaped!"

"Not a bad idea—why haven't you?"

Jared slowly lifted his head. "Don't force me to get up and escort you out."

Artus tilted his head. "You are not yourself today, I might point out."

Feeling increasingly dizzy he lowered himself sideways to the bed, draping an arm over his aching head. "Please, just leave me in peace."

"I'll get Neal for you."

"No…don't bother him."

Artus sighed in warning. "I'll have to give the queen your regrets, though she specifically wanted you to lead the hunt."

"Why would she summon me when she has you?"

"I do think I'm the more handsome, but I've a feeling it involves you and Aileen—even Serena thinks so, according to the gossip she's heard."

"Gossip," Jared said dismissively. "All right—what time?"

"Between training and dinner."

"Tell her I will wait for her at the stables."

"Good," Artus said as he got up. "Now I'm off to report to my other master Aileen, but I will go to her father and tell him you need something for that head."

"Don't bother."

"Trust me, you are going to need it," he said as he walked out. "The day shines, Sir Jared—feel better."

Jared closed his eyes, wondering why he could not seem to have even one day to himself. He longed to ride away from everything, but knew that would solve nothing.

_**Neal let himself into Jared's chamber, **_frowning at the sleeping form still abed. Quietly approaching him, he laid a hand upon his back and felt him tense immediately.

"Jared—are you well?"

Slowly lifting his head, he gazed up at him and struggled to sit up. "Sir?"

"Lie down," Neal ordered, pressing him back. When he did not fight him he pulled the chair closer and sat down to examine his pale color and the dark circles beneath his eyes. "Artus tells me you seem ill today, as did your squire when you failed to appear for the first round of training."

"Can't even sleep without arousing suspicion," he said wearily. "…how is Aileen?"

"Benjamin told me you've had trouble sleeping," he continued, "as well as frequent headaches."

"That is true," he admitted. "And I've felt dizzy at times."

"How long has this been going on?"

"A few months."

Neal reached inside his bag and withdrew a small vial. Uncorking it, he leaned forward and waved it beneath his nostrils. "Breathe in."

Jared sniffed and started coughing. His eyes watered as he glanced suspiciously at the vial. "What is that?"

"Oil of wintergreen," he explained, leaning over to rub a small amount into his temple before he handed it over. "Use it whenever you feel the pain beginning. I'll give your squire a special tea which should help as well, and something else to relax you for sleep."

Jared nodded, eyeing him clearly for the first time. "Thank you."

Neal sat back, crossing his arms. "I suspect your trouble arises from too little rest, too much turmoil, and far too much travel, and I intend to inform Edward of that before day's end. You are clearly doing the work of a half dozen men Jared, and it's wearing sorely upon you."

"I appreciate your concern, sir," he said, slowly sitting up. "But I doubt Edward will relieve me—not now."

"Leave that to me," he answered, noting that Jared looked less pale already. "Now…about my daughter—"

"I regret if I've caused her any pain, sir."

"—it has not escaped Edward's notice that you are fond of each other—"

"She is a valued friend, sir."

Neal held his gaze. "You and I both know there is much more to it than friendship."

To his credit, Jared did not deny the inference.

"Due to the fact that you are both bound to this court, I think it's well past the time this all comes out into the light. The queen has begun to ask me about you, which she's never done before."

Jared looked almost guilty, he thought. "Artus just came here with a summons for me to lead Elinor's hunt."

Neal nodded soberly. "Then you and I must discuss your plan before involving Edward and Elinor."

"Sir, is Aileen all right?"

Neal studied the concern in his expression, not knowing where to begin or how much to tell. "I'm afraid not, Jared…at least not since de Clare made her an offer."

Jared pursed his lips and glanced away. "I was afraid of that."

"He's very influential and not too much older than she," Neal stated blandly. "How well do you know the man?"

Jared looked up, apparently torn as to what he would say. "He's been cooperative enough concerning the treaty, but his reputation with women is poor."

Neal sighed in frustration. "I thought as much. Unfortunately this court cares less about whom Aileen marries than that she does marry. Quite frankly I find the entire process overbearing, yet I cannot tolerate seeing her suffer the relentless taunts from the other women. Now she has gone into virtual seclusion, taking her meals in her quarters."

Jared's expression grew dark with anger. "Can anything be done about the harassment?"

"Elinor has tried," he sighed, "but she cannot be everywhere at every moment."

"Perhaps Artus could help, as well as her friend Serena."

"It's too late for that—I'm afraid she's planning to leave for Belgium to avoid Edward arranging her suit. My late wife's sister lives there, and she will be more than happy to have Aileen."

Jared appeared nonplussed. "She's leaving?"

Neal nodded soberly. "I must say that I cannot blame her, and perhaps the change will be good for her. I am considering resigning my position here in order to accompany her at a later date."

Jared looked angered by the news. "She should not have to leave."

"Well, whatever happens, I pray that you and Aileen might correspond with each other. She needs friends of good character, and they are few and far between."

Jared nodded. "I would be honoured, sir."

Neal studied him in disappointment, for he had expected more. "She _will_ be pressed into an arranged marriage, Jared—whether here or on the continent. She must not be alone, and I'm not getting any younger."

Jared pursed his lips but said nothing.

"I love my daughter very much," he said carefully.

_So do I _he read in Jared's expression. "I will do everything I can to protect her," he promised.

"It is not her safety which concerns me, Jared—it's her heart."

He shook his head. "I haven't anything to offer her, sir."

"I disagree."

Neal watched as his expression faltered, and he seemed to struggle with something. "Upon my return from the Crusade I was disowned."

Neal frowned, never having suspected that. "May I ask why?"

"I disobeyed orders in order to save the lives of an innocent family."

Neal stared at him in confusion. "What kind of family?"

"There were four children, all very young. I was ordered to execute them because they were Jews. The order was considered a trivial one, and I was left alone to obey. But it was morally wrong, and I helped them escape."

"Does Edward know this?"

"Only in part."

"I've heard of such atrocities," Neal replied, studying him carefully. "They seem to be unfortunate means in wartime."

Jared's jaw tightened. "I could not execute my own people."

Neal stared at him, understanding beginning to dawn in his mind. "You are Jewish?" he whispered.

Jared nodded. "My mother was a Jewess, though even my brothers do not know."

Neal leaned closer, shaking his head. "I've never understood why your family has not ransomed you."

"They will not, but not for that reason alone."

"Have you no inheritance, or lands Jared?"

He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "There is a small estate on the seacoast which belonged to my mother's family. I am the only heir."

"I'm sorry, Jared—I had no idea how much you've suffered…perhaps if Edward knew about your family—"

"No one must know, sir," he stated, his eyes probing his.

Neal stared back at him. "This is why you have not considered Aileen—"

"It is one of the reasons, sir…I thought it might help explain my actions."

_Or lack thereof, _Neal read in his expression. "Jared, surely you cannot think I have any objections to your being—"

He glanced away. "I'm never sure what to think, sir."

"But you would still need political ransom in order to be released."

"I'm afraid so, due to the foolishness of my brothers, who remain in Edward's custody."

"Surely there is a way to appeal to Edward, based upon your accomplishments."

"There is, if I agree to his offer."

"Offer?"

Jared sighed tiredly. "My choices are three: swear fealty to the Crown in exchange for my release—"

"But that would make you a traitor to your own people!" Neal protested.

"Agree to Edward's ransoming them to Llewellyn's court at Snowden, or that combined with my serving as Edward's eyes and ears at Snowden."

"Still making you a traitor to your own people, and a spy for him…he's using you as a pawn," Neal frowned, suddenly thinking of another solution. "What if you were to be ransomed by another sponsor?"

"There is no one else, sir."

"Or perhaps you could escape?" he mused, suddenly finding inspiration. "I could help you, if you agree to escort Aileen to Belgium."

"Edward would anticipate that."

"I could help you, thus leaving Aileen out of the plan."

"Why, sir, would you risk your own safety by aiding me? Furthermore, Aileen needs you."

_Because I want you as my son-in-law_ Neal screamed inwardly, wondering why the obvious did not seem to occur to him. It was time to be frank, he decided.

"I refuse to take advantage of you or Aileen."

Neal grinned. "I doubt she would object," he offered, winning only a troubled frown from Jared. "And you'll find none in me."

Jared narrowed his gaze. "If you propose that I offer for her hand, I haven't the means to support her in the manner to which she is accustomed, nor which she deserves."

"But you can make her happy," he argued, "and something tells me yourself as well."

He gazed off into the distance, his expression unreadable. "I doubt Edward would release me."

"You could spy on Llewellyn from your own estate, could you not?"

Jared looked at him in surprise, as if never having considered it before. "It might be possible…I'll have to consider it, if given your leave."

"You have it," he said, getting up from his chair. "Whatever you decide, let me know and I will tell Aileen."

"No, please—I'd like to tell her."

"As you wish," he agreed. "Now I'll leave you to your rest."

Jared nodded, his attention already elsewhere. And that is how he left him.

_**Roanna and her friends were already in the dining hall, **_and when Aileen did not see either her father or Sir Jared there she knew she was in trouble. Suspicious of their plan to dine with her in public, yet had the impression that they were going to make her confront her fears by facing the women with their support, as if a simple face to face encounter would solve the problem.

_What doesn't anyone believe me?_ she wondered, stealing a glance at Roanna's table as she walked past the clean trenchers to start with a cool drink. _It must be because she is so pretty, and can so easily fool them all!_

At the sound of their laughter her stomach clenched, and when she saw the other diners look at her pointedly she knew she was the brunt of their teasing. They all knew, and no one did anything about it. As she attempted to duck around the line of people she scanned the hall for any sign of her father and Jared, but there was none. This, she told herself, was the reason why she had to keep to herself, and eventually to leave. She'd already written to Claire and was welcome, and in her mind the day could not come soon enough.

Drinking half her lemon tea she spied Jared entering the hall, and watched him stop to scan the crowded hall in search of her father. Covertly studying his tall, ramrod posture she mourned the fact that her leaving meant she would never see him again. He was the one man who not only became her friend, but who had piqued her interest despite being completely beyond her reach. But he had given her wonderful memories from the night of her debut, for which she would be eternally grateful to him.

"What pray tell, are you staring at?" Roanna demanded, startling her so greatly that she nearly cried out in desperation. Averting her glance she walked toward the trenchers and prayed that Jared would see her.

"Go back to your friends, Roanna," she sighed in a bored tone, turning her back so that he would not see how Roanna upset her. She didn't want him to think she was a coward.

Roanna gripped her arm painfully. "It had better not be who I think it is," she sneered, glancing over her shoulder as Jared walked slowly toward them, still gazing about the great hall. "He'll have no use for a frog like you!" she spat.

Shaking off her arm Aileen moved with the crowd, hearing her father's voice call her name from the opposite entrance. Roanna shifted to block her way. "I liked it better when you stayed away from here. Frankly, I didn't think you had the nerve to show your face after the warning we gave you."

As her friends approached and circled toward her she cringed inwardly, remembering how they had beaten her up only a fortnight ago. Surely they wouldn't do anything in public, she hoped.

"I am dining here tonight with my father, so step aside," she ordered, her voice shaking with anger and fear.

"I don't think so—"

"Aileen!" her father called, waving for her to come join him at the seat by the far wall before he sat down.

Roanna laughed, her back to Father. "He should keep better watch over you," she mocked, earning the agreement of her friends.

Aileen turned to walk away just as she saw Jared's gaze rest upon them. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he started in their direction. Mortified, she turned away and prayed that he would not involve himself. It would only make matters worse, for everyone knew that Roanna lusted after him. They also knew that his cool rejection of her only enraged her more. At the debut he had only danced with her, and Aileen sensed that Roanna intended to make her pay for it. Now, as he came toward them she shifted to another line, hoping to lead them away.

"Here he comes," the friends whispered in awe, and her heart sank.

Roanna's expression changed like lightning to a brilliant smile as she bumped Aileen's hip with her own and turned to face him. Stumbling, she felt the mug slip from her hand and it crashed to the floor, breaking into several pieces and scattering. Staring at it in horrified silence, she heard the din in the hall lower to a hush as she bent to begin picking up the pieces.

"Such a clumsy girl!" Roanna laughed, good-naturedly. "Why Sir Jared, what a pleasure and an honour that you join us today!" she gushed.

The others greeted him, as did others in the crowd before their attention returned to their meals. Reaching wide for a piece that had scattered to the center of the aisle, she stopped short when a pair of black riding boots appeared before her. Slowly moving her gaze up, she stopped at the formidable expression on Jared's face.

"Leave it," he said softly, and when she froze staring pleadingly up at him he bent and took her arm to help her up. "They will clean it up, won't you _ladies?_" he half-asked, half-ordered.

"Jared," she whispered, feeling his arm slip around her back as he turned her away. "Please, don't—"

"A word with you, Lady Aileen?" he said formally, escorting her toward the exit without glancing back.

From behind them she could hear Roanna's growl of protest and the clink of the pottery. The second hush quickly dissipated and relief washed over her.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he gently propelled her toward the exit. "I thought you and Father wanted to dine here tonight!"

"Play along," he said softly, "for we are about to teach them a lesson."

_**Feeling anger that he'd not experienced in years, Jared escorted her toward the entrance to the great hall.**_ To her credit, Aileen went along with him without knowing or questioning what he was about to do, and her faith in him pleased him a great deal. He'd seen part of the interaction between those women and her, and her expression had spoken volumes. He'd long suspected there was much more to their harassment than the verbal aspect, and now after seeing Roanna shove her he had proof. Whatever treatment of Aileen Roanna delighted in, she covered it with hypocritical sweetness. He'd never liked the woman, and once she began to direct her lust toward him his dislike had only intensified.

"I can handle them," Aileen told him after glancing back toward the cleanup still in process. "You mustn't involve yourself—"

"I am already involved," he answered stiffly. "That woman needs to know where our interests lie, and I intend to make that perfectly clear."

"I don't understand," she replied, turning to face him when he stopped just beyond the threshold and took her arms in his hands.

"You will," he said softly before tilting his head and cupping the back of her head in his palm. Hearing her gasp of surprise he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her.

Circling his arm around her waist he held her in a lover's embrace though she was stiff with surprise and misunderstanding. He felt her palms flatten against his chest and to his amazement she rose upon her toes and accepted his kiss. White hot desire knifed through him and he lost all conscious thought, finding himself able only to respond to the feel of her in his arms and the soft sweetness of her lips. At his gentle coaxing they began to part beneath his as she considered testing the borders of shared passion. He closed his eyes at her soft moan, feeling her hands slide up his chest to caress the back of his neck. Intoxicated by her response, he backed her against the wall and heard a thundering applause break out in the hall. Only then did he realize what he was doing.

Aileen froze and stiffened, opening her eyes before she slowly lowered herself back to the floor. Staring up at him, she afforded him the pleasure of studying the beautiful blush pinking her cheeks and the dazed beauty of her eyes. Ordering himself to release her, he pulled away from the delicious torture of her touch and gazed into her eyes. She seemed unable to move or speak, but just looked up at him as if in shock.

"I knew it," he whispered, slipping his hand around her waist to turn and guide her through the foyer. To his surprise she hugged his waist and together they walked away from they fascinated stares of the other diners left behind.

Once outside they hurried toward the gardens, careful to scrutinize their surroundings. Thankfully no one was about, so oppressive was the heat of the day. Panting for breath in his excitement, he guided her back into the cooler recesses of the shade where no one would see them. Releasing her hand, he strolled toward the giant oak, lifting a hand to his temples in order to assess what he had just done. His body ached with wakened desire, so great was his sudden need for her. He could still smell her fragrance even in the garden, and knew that she was near. Judging by her silence, she too was trying to recover from the shock of what had just happened.

"Knew what?" she finally asked, saying nothing more as she waited for him to explain himself. When he found he could not, she gripped his arm and moved to stand before him.

He gazed into her upturned face, his eyes drawn unavoidably to her lips. Drawn to them, he felt himself leaning down before he paused, clenching his jaw in an effort to resist them. Without completely realizing it, he touched her waist and eased her closer.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, shaking his head as he met her gaze. "I didn't mean to lose—"

"What did you know?" she repeated in a whisper, her eyes searching his.

How could he tell her that he had suspected the well of passion in her, and that he'd sensed it would not take a great deal of exploration to discover it?

At his hesitation she fisted her hands in his shirtfront. "Was it that I was so inexperienced, or so clumsy?" she choked, her eyes misting with emotion. "Or that I was too childish and boyish—"

"So passionate," he interrupted, drawing her closer though he knew he had no right. "So tempting and beautiful," he whispered.

Her expression was a mixture of surprise, confusion, then realization and joy. She surged toward him, burying her face against his chest as her arms encircled his back. "Oh Jared," she breathed, "what are we going to do?"

He lifted his hands to her cheeks and tilted her face up, studying her and wanting to kiss her again. She gripped his wrists and held his gaze.

"Marry me," he whispered, searching her eyes for the truth. She could tease him and play women's games with him, or she could reject him on the grounds of his exile. He had little to offer but a life of hardship and turmoil, yet he could not help himself from wanting her by his side.

Then, much to his amazement, she smiled.

_c. 2008 by Christine Levitt_


	8. Chapter 8 The Ransom

_**Chapter 8 The Ransom**_

_**Gently curling her fingertips into his shirt **_she watched as his eyes fired in response to her touch. Feeling a surge of excitement at this newfound power she seemed to hold over him, nevertheless sensing her need to tread very carefully upon this unexplored ground. Her first question was what had prompted Jared to suddenly change the nature of their relationship into a passionate one. Had he kissed her only to make it clear to Roanna that he was not interested in _her_? Or was it simply to display to her tormenters the fact that he found her, Aileen, desirable. Given his stiff code of honour, could there be anything more to it than his wish to defend her from harm? Even if by the remote possibility he found that he was attracted to her, weren't his actions more prompted by pity than desire? Or worse, had someone forced him to offer himself as a suitor, perhaps Father or Edward?

Considering all these things she searched his face, noting that at her hesitation in answering his proposal his warm desire had cooled to a distinctly more aloof expression. Despite this she could not forget the look in his eyes nor the breathtaking command with which he had handled her. As for his own purposes, he had truly made it abundantly clear to all that he was indeed a man with desires and needs, and that for some reason he had chosen her in order to express them. His singling her out made her feel special and honoured, as well as astounded and thrilled. All this time he'd been her friend and protector, yet apparently he now saw himself as her suitor. Probing the depths of his magnificent eyes, she detected a cautious mixture of reserve and desire as he awaited her decision.

_Marry him? How could I not— but on what grounds, and under which conditions?_ She twisted her fingers in his shirt, feeling his hands come up to catch hers.

"Aileen, I did not intend—"

"Is your proposal based upon compulsion," she blurted out, "or personal choice?"

His eyes fired with several different emotions. "The latter," he stated.

Relief flooded her, making her feel weak with joy as she searched his stern countenance. "Why did you wait so long?" she choked.

He pursed his lips. "I wanted to be free before asking you."

"_Have_ you been freed?"

He frowned. "No."

"But, based upon what you told me—"

"Do you have an answer or—"

"this is a completely unexpected surprise—"

"would you like an apology?" he finished, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and frustration.

She released his shirtfront, staring up at him in confusion. "Of course not—and yes, of course I'll marry you but you might have warned me!"

His brows shot up. "Tell me how I could have."

She held his gaze, smiling despite his obviously changed mood. She clenched his upper arms, squeezing the hard muscles beneath the lightweight fabric of his shirt. "I would be honoured to marry you, Jared."

His eyes heated with desire as he exhaled a long breath. "Good," he stated, nodding toward the direction of the great hall. "I hope you will forgive me for presuming upon you."

She smiled. "There is nothing to forgive."

He shook his head. "My behavior was not honourable, though the intent was—I found I could no longer tolerate watching you suffer."

"Thank you for what you did," she smiled shyly. "I love you for it."

His eyes searched hers with burning intensity. "My pleasure," he said softly.

Watching him carefully she slowly slid her arms around his back, daring to rest her cheek over his thudding heart. "What are we to do?" she worried.

He placed a hand at her back. "Fear not," he reassured her, "all will eventually resolve."

"But what happens next," she whispered, looking up at him, "now that I've given you my reply?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that," he said, toying with a strand of her hair, "but it should not be long before we leave this place."

"But how? And when?" she wondered, thinking of his service to Edward.

He sighed, glancing around as if to spy anyone watching them. "I'm not yet sure."

She studied his face. "Then I will prepare to do so at a moment's notice."

He glanced back down at her, gently framing her jaw with his palm. "I don't deserve you."

"Nor I you."

"If only things could be different," he regretted. "Still, your father did give us his permission."

She toyed with the lacing of his tunic. "He loves you almost as much as I do."

"I hope not," he said, turning to take her hand. "Let's go inside."

"It is rather hot out here," she agreed, placing her free hand beneath her hair to lift it off the back of her neck. His eyes followed the gesture with keen interest before he tugged her toward the garden exit. "Where shall we go?"

He led her through the garden maze toward a side corridor. "To your quarters."

She shot a warning glance toward him. "I'm not like the other women, Jared."

"I know you aren't," he said, lifting their joined hands to kiss hers. "That's why I prefer you."

They entered the inner bailey and followed the corridor into the cooler interior of the women's wing, careful to be sure no one was about. Moving closer to him, she smiled at his downcast glance.

"It would be highly inappropriate of me to invite you there," she stated, "especially in this court."

His gaze scanned the closed doors of her corridor. "Which one?"

"At the end—the one on the right."

Once they reached her door she preceded him to the recessed threshold, unlatching it and turning to bid him goodbye. Quite unexpectedly he caught her by the waist and bent to kiss her hungrily, and she felt her back touch the wall. Gripping his arms she kissed him back, winding her arms around his neck and leaning into him until he groaned softly and pulled away just enough to rest his brow against hers.

"Aileen," he breathed, closing his eyes in frustration as he labored to catch his breath.

"I love the way you whisper my name," she confessed, reaching up to touch his lips and thinking he had the most beautifully shaped masculine mouth. He caught her hand and eyed her meaningfully.

"Whatever happens, know that I love you," he whispered, kissing her brow.

She smiled through the tears in her eyes. "When might I see you again?"

"Not for a few days," he admitted with obvious frustration. "I doubt things will change much for now, or that I'll even be able to watch over you. I'm to return to the Marches for meetings—"

"Then take me with you."

He gazed down at her, brushing the pad of his thumb over her lips in a gentle caress. "If I only could…"

She flattened his hand against her lips, kissing his palm and devouring him with her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," he whispered, "there's only so much a man can take."

She turned quickly and opened the door, slipping inside and closing it almost all the way barring the slight gap through which she peered. Regretting the tortured expression she saw upon his face and knowing she was responsible for it, she held his gaze.

"Are you sure about this?" she whispered, fearing he might change his mind or be unable to make arrangements for them to be together.

He nodded without hesitation. "Never have I been surer."

Then he turned and strode away, never looking back though she watched until he rounded the corner and disappeared. Once the echo of his steps drifted into silence she closed and latched her door, leaning back against it to marvel at what had just taken place.

_It must be a dream, for it was too good to be true—Jared, offering for her hand, and after gaining Father's permission!_

"Incredible," she whispered to her empty room, "Who would have expected me to find anyone, certainly not as fascinating a man as he..." she mused.

He was an exile, a mystery she wanted to solve. She wanted to know all about him, yet already sensed that she knew enough. He was far more intelligent and sensitive a man than anyone she had ever met, and not too old or unattractive either. But what did he see in her to prompt a proposal? Glancing toward her looking glass she pulled away from the door and walked toward it, deciding to study herself objectively and from a new perspective.

She reached up to loosen her hair, threading it over her shoulders. It was thick, dark and wavy, considered unmanageable and untidy in court. Her stature was not as tall as was fashionable either, but surely that was not of crucial importance. Leaning closer, she turned her head attempting to study her profile, but gave up soon enough. Eyeing herself, she decided that though a plain brown her eyes were her best feature. They were almond shaped and not too close together. Pinching her cheeks, she watched her pale skin take on a bit of color and decided that was why so many of the other women at court resorted to the gesture, for it did add a pleasing tint of color to her cheeks. Still, she tried picturing herself as a married woman and found it a challenge. Reaching up to touch the slight puffiness her lips seemed to be suffering, she suddenly realized they were that way from Jared's kisses. Smiling at herself, she lifted her chin and told herself not to be concerned. He had kissed her, and that without any flirtatious effort on her part.

Smoothing her fingertips over her cheek, she remembered the roughness of his hand there and closed her eyes. His nearness caused something deep within her to spring to life, something powerful and wonderful and unexplored. Remembering how she had once judged him capable of arousing a woman's interest while watching him from beneath the willow trees, she now knew it to be true. All she had to do was look into his eyes and she would be lost. It was unnerving and pleasurable and exciting all at the same time. Though she knew that they faced nearly insurmountable odds, she was convinced that somehow he would find a way for them to be together. And she must prepare herself.

Turning to study her quarters with a critical eye, she went to her bed and bent to pull her valise from beneath it. Setting it atop the coverlet, she opened it and realized that it would not hold half of what she would need to take with her. In the past her travels had been brief and infrequent, never requiring more than a few gowns and necessities which had always fit inside. But now, if indeed they did leave together, it would be for an extended period of time.

_Is this eloping?_ she wondered, not knowing if they would be married by priest or justice or where and when. Surely it was scandalous, running away with a man without stating their vows before witnesses. But Jared was an honourable man, and he would see to it that they were properly married.

Continuing her packing, she turned to her wardrobe and lifted out a gold embroidered chemise which had belonged to her mother on her wedding night. Suddenly remembering her dream, she could see herself riding with Jared toward a brightly lit dawn and a new kingdom. Had the dream been prophetic, she wondered? It seemed more than a coincidence that they planned to leave Edward's kingdom for Jared's homeland. So she bowed her head and closed her eyes, beginning with a prayer of thanksgiving for having found Jared and for the promise of a new life together with him.

_**The administration offices were brightly lit but silent at the late hour.**_ Jared paused just inside the foyer, nodding to Edward's aide when he looked up from his ledger.

"The king and queen are waiting for you," he was told before the man returned to his accounting.

He paused, wondering what this was all about, for during the hunt the queen had said nothing to him which might be considered personal or out of the ordinary. She had, however, watched him nearly as intently as a hawk. Now this summons on the day he proposed to Aileen seemed unusual. Did it mean another assignment was forthcoming, and if so why the urgency in calling him so late at night?

"How long have I been given?" he dared ask the aide.

"A quarter hour," he replied, "that is all."

Turning to face the double doors he stiffened his back as well as his will, determined to refuse any more assignments which might take him from this keep and out of Aileen's life. He would use Neal's assessment of his physical condition as leverage, if need be. Edward would just have to understand that he had limits. Setting his palm to the ornately carved door he shoved it open and let himself in.

The king was sitting at his desk and glanced up. "Ah, Jared," he gestured, scanning the documents before him again. "This shouldn't take long—I realize it's late."

He paused by the seat indicated, glancing at Elinor who sat by her husband's side wearing a bored expression.

"Dr. Carrick should be here momentarily," he was informed.

_Dr. Carrick? Had Neal already complained about his workload and perhaps earned him a leave?_

At his hesitation Edward glanced up. "Oh do sit, Jared—you make me nervous this late at night, standing there on alert."

"Aye, sir," he complied, sitting down stiffly. He had earlier fallen asleep at his desk, studying the manuscripts at length and now suffered a sore neck in addition to his leg. Waiting as patiently as he could manage, he wondered about the papers which seemed to consume the king's attention this late at night. Then Edward sighed in satisfaction and looked up.

"Well, it seems this meeting is cause for celebration after all!"

The door opened suddenly and Neal entered, a troubled expression upon his face. When their eyes met Jared could have sworn the physician looked guilty.

"Tell him, Neal!" Edward ordered, waving him to sit down as he scribbled something on the top document.

Jared eyed him suspiciously, confused and alarmed.

"I'd rather you did, sire," Neal answered, nodding to Jared as he sat next to him.

Edward sat back and steepled his fingertips together, staring over them at Jared. "We have received an offer of ransom for your return, Jared—congratulations."

He stared back in shock. _Now? And under what conditions?_

"Speechless?" Edward mused, glancing toward Elinor who glanced his way. "I confess to being as shocked, so long was it in coming."

"From whom?" he managed to reply, for he had not anticipated any offer, from any source.

"So you expected none," the king wished to confirm.

"No, Your Majesty."

Edward laughed heartily, glancing at his wife. "This is even better than we'd imagined!"

"Tell him, milord," she encouraged, eyeing Jared carefully.

"Well as you can see, I've been pouring over the offer and have agreed to accept it," he stated, "despite the unusual source and stipulation."

"Who has offered, sire?" Jared said hesitantly.

Edward lifted his hands heavenward. "Why the brothers of Basingwerk Abbey, it appears!"

Trying his best to hide his anger, Jared ground his ja_w. How dare they take advantage of the Cistercian brothers, _he protested, suddenly knowing exactly who was behind the plan.

"The friar is resting at the chapel for the night, but will start back at first light with the approval and our signatures," Edward grinned. "And I will be reluctant to lose you, Jared."

Jared eyed the documents strewn over the desk. "May I ask concerning the stipulation?"

"See for yourself, Jared, and Dr. Carrick—please," Edward beckoned. "You need only sign and the we will discuss the preparations necessary."

Jared slowly got up, glancing suspiciously at Neal as he preceded him to sign the document. When he had finished, he handed the quill to Jared and stood aside. Jared stepped closer and studied the certificate, pen in hand.

"You must marry here, before your release," Edward informed him, obviously having some difficulty hiding his amusement. "An unusual request I dare say, though perhaps not when considering the authors."

Jared glanced up from his reading. "It relates to a clause concerning my inheritance," he explained.

"Then you _do_ have lands—excellent!" Edward stated, focusing his attention upon Neal. "I am relieved you will be leaving here as a nobleman, aren't you Neal?"

"Yes, Your Grace," the physician answered, meeting Jared's questioning look. "Though I regret my ward being handled in such a manner."

_Ward? _Jared narrowed his gaze upon Neal, beginning to panic. _No one ever mentioned a ward, and what did that have to do with his lands and family?!_

"Women are unfortunately handled so when there are political and financial terms, aren't they darling?" Edward addressed his wife, who nodded sagely.

"Yes, unfortunately they are," she said blandly. "I am however intrigued that the wife is therein named—surely the friars have no interest or ability for matchmaking..."

"That might have been true had the Marcher lords not attended the debut," Edward quipped, eyeing Jared meaningfully.

"If that is how they obtained her name, why would they not name the more obvious choise of Lady Aileen?" Elinor wanted to know.

Jared felt his gut twist anxiously. _What were they leading up to tell him? _he wondered as he scrutinized the king and queen's expressions.

"Who are we to argue with clerics?" Edward scoffed, turning to Neal. "I would think that Lady Roanna would be pleased, being chosen as Sir Jared's wife—"

"Lady Roanna?" he protested, staring at Neal in confusion. "I don't understand—"

"Roanna is my ward," Neal said sheepishly, "and the sole heir of an estate near de Clare's lands. Her mother was of Cymri descent."

Jared hung his head in defeat, praying inwardly for wisdom and mercy. _This could not be happening— marry Roanna?_

"I will need your signature as well," Edward prompted, causing him to look up. "Then you will be free to leave with our blessing, after you've married. We will supply an escort as well as ample provisions for the journey."

"I must decline," Jared answered stoically, ignoring Elinor's gasp of surprise and Neal's soft groan of remorse. Holding Edward's glare, he clenched his jaw. "I cannot agree to those terms."

"Why on earth not?" Edward said, surging forward in his seat to place his hands upon his desk. "You have waited patiently all this time for your release, and now that you have it you refuse—"

"I cannot marry Lady Roanna," Jared said firmly, almost seeing his freedom slip from his grasp. "I would rather choose to remain here, in your service."

Edward was stunned. "Roanna is one of the most desirable, wealthy women in our court, as well as someone who shares a common heritage with you! Surely you must see the advantage of that, if only for your reputation and standing in your own homeland—"

"It is a ploy sire," he explained, stabbing a finger into the document. "I know the hidden intent of its message, and if you trust me and refrain from forcing such an alliance you will find your kingdom blessedly free of political turmoil," he said, finishing with a tense sigh.

"Neal, what do you know of this?" Edward demanded.

"Nothing sire," he answered, glancing at Jared in fear. "Roanna is from the southwestern lands of the Cymri, and even refused an offer from de Clare himself."

Jared turned his attention back to Edward. "It is an alliance meant to mount strength behind Llewellyn," he tried to explain. "I beg your indulgence sire, but I cannot take part in such a scheme—"

"Oh! I thought you merely disliked Lady Roanna," Edward said tightly.

"de Clare is no doubt behind this, knowing that my clan is one of the last to resist Llewellyn's charm. His supporters will do all they can to weaken our resistance, which originates with my father's initial challenge of his motives. To agree to such an arrangement would betray my own clan and family—"

"Your _family_ betrayed and abandoned you all this time," Edward said pointedly, though Elinor laid a hand upon his arm.

Jared straightened. "I realized that, sire," he answered. "But that does not give me the right to answer with a worse betrayal."

Edward studied his impassive expression, then Neal's. To everyone's surprise Elinor rose from her seat.

"What if a different bride were chosen," she suggested, meeting Jared's gaze. "One without any political influence at all? Was not Lady Roanna's name in the accompanying letter, not in the original document of ransom?"

Edward got up and put his arm around her. "Why what an excellent idea," he smiled craftily, turning his attention back to Jared. "You're right, my dear! Why be bound by any suggestion in any letter? The only stipulation for ransom is that Jared marry, so why not let him choose his own bride, as any free man would?"

Neal breathed a sigh of relief. "That is an excellent suggestion, Lady Elinor," he agreed.

"Roanna is far too volatile a personality to be placed in such a delicate position," Edward added, glancing at Neal. "Forgive the judgment of your ward, Neal."

Neal bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I cannot disagree," he stated. "I noted her interaction with Jared that night, and unlike so many others he failed to fall under her spell. A marriage between them would, I fear, be disastrous."

"I agree," Elinor stated. "However your daughter Aileen is quite another matter."

Jared nodded curtly, slowly relaxing his guard without revealing any emotion. "You have keen instincts, milady," he said simply. "That would be an agreeable alternative."

"Neal?" Edward prompted, crossing his arms and clearly eager to end the discussion and retire for the night.

"Sir Jared has my permission to marry Aileen," he agreed.

"Perhaps we should match up Lady Roanna with de Clare anyway," Edward mused. "But that will wait—are you in agreement, Jared, with claiming Lady Aileen as your wife?"

"I am," he answered as calmly as he could, "provided the lady is in agreement."

"I believe she will welcome your proposal," Neal stated, watching Edward hold the pen toward Jared once again.

He stepped forward and took it, quickly signing the document for his release.

"Then this is a binding agreement as far as we are concerned," Edward stated. When Jared signed it he lifted the document and called in his aide to witness it. "I hereby grant Sir Jared release from this court," he stated, "thus witnessed and signed with my seal. Go file it in the register," he dismissed his aide, who nodded and left without a word.

"Thank you, sire," Neal said as if in parting, turning to leave.

"Wait, Neal," Edward stopped him. "There is one more matter concerning your daughter, and I do request a favor from Sir Jared to train his replacement, Sir Artus."

Jared nodded. "I will, Your Grace."

"Good—now, the wedding must remain a secret, and will be arranged for you for this Friday evening. It will be in the chapel and private, and you Neal will the only guest to witness it. After the ceremony a private farewell dinner will be provided, after which you will be escorted back to your quarters. Jared, you and Lady Aileen will spend a few hours alone for the consummation proof of which must be provided, after which an armed escort will come for you at midnight to escort you to the Dyke. All this must be carried out with the utmost secrecy, is that clear?"

Jared knew he was in no position to object, and thought it better to remain silent. But to train Artus in two days was nearly impossible. Still, if that was what Edward wanted, that was what he would get.

"Artus is bright and respects you a gread deal, though he is half the man you are," Edward insisted. "I trust you to fulfill the task, Jared."

"I will do my best sire—"

"And my second request is that when you check on your brothers in Llewellyn's court, I would appreciate being notified if you hear any wind of threat, forwarded anonymously of course."

Jared threw Neal a worried frown, returning his attention to the king. "I doubt such a 'wind' would shift in my direction, sire."

"Just keep and eye and ear on the Prince," Edward said casually. "After all, he will have your wayward brothers and as you labour toward reconciliation with your family think of us fondly and pass along any concerns or threats as you become aware of them."

Jared held his gaze. "You are asking me to spy on Llewellyn."

Edward laughed good-naturedly. "Come, Jared—I merely ask that while you are watching over the safety of Wales and your brothers you might stay in touch. We have both worked so diligently to prevent the outbreak of war, and I know that peace is your main objective. You need not trouble yourself much, of course—I have people in Flint which I believe is not too far away from your lands?"

"That is correct, Your Grace," he answered tiredly.

"Good—well then, you're free to go! I shall forward these documents by courier and see that the chapel is prepared for 7 p.m. You will have to excuse us from attending."

Jared nodded curtly. "I understand, sire."

"Good—you will be compensated generously for your loyal service to this keep, and your wages will be paid along with a wedding gift to help you get settled. Neal, have you anything to add?"

"My daughter is a lady of this court," he said boldly, "and therefore should be allowed a proper wedding."

"Your daughter has resisted all efforts on her behalf to see her married," Edward scolded. "Now she respects and admires Sir Jared, and should count her blessings. We will miss her significant contribution to the healing arts, of course. In fact, if you like I will search for an apprentice to replace her."

"Thank you, sire, but our treatment of Sir Jared is also less than honourable," he added. "If the man's ransom has been paid, he should be freed in truth."

"Please, Dr. Carrick," Jared interjected, turning to Edward. "You are correct, sire—it is true that my brothers' presence in Llewellyn's court will necessitate my scrutiny. You are familiar enough with my opinions of the prince to know that I will work on the behalf of my people, even should that require being at odds with him. Your support would be most welcome, and I will do my best to keep you abreast of any alarming developments."

"Good, but take care, Jared—the prince will try to eliminate you if you stand too obviously in his way."

"I realize that, sire."

"I have had interests in the North for a long time, Jared, yet for your sake and Lady Aileen's I will set them aside for now, trusting your cooperation. And I will do all that I can to see you both safely arrived and settled. My contacts there will in turn advise you both of any threats to your safety as well."

Jared glanced toward Neal, who nodded soberly. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he replied for both of them.

"It will be advantageous to Llewellyn if he can win your support—I suspect that is behind his ransoming your brothers, and perhaps your own ransom."

"That may be true, Your Majesty," Jared said without complete honesty. He knew very well who was behind his ransom, and it was certainly not Llewellyn.

"Let him see that you have returned safely home from your oppressive captivity in my service," Edward mused. "Then we shall see how he plans his next move."

Jared could not believe that the future of his people was being reduced to moves on a chess board. Trying to hide his distaste for Edward's proud assessment of the complexities of Cymri division, he waited for his dismissal, hoping to discuss the encounter with Neal in private, and then with Aileen.

Edward turned to Neal. "I trust you will inform your daughter of what has transpired this night, and soon. Until Friday evening I prefer no contact between them until the ceremony. Save for Sir Jared's training, he shall also be thus secluded."

"Very well," Neal answered, bidding his farewell to the king and queen. They left the chambers together, though once in the corridor Neal took Jared's arm as they walked.

"She may not take this well," he whispered. "Aileen is accustomed to having her own way, particularly when it comes to an order from the king."

"There is something I must tell you, sir," Jared said, stopping and turning to face him. "I have already asked for her hand, based upon our previous discussion the night of her debut."

Neal stared at him a moment. "Let me guess, it was after you kissed her just outside the great hall."

Jared nodded. "I'm afraid I acted impulsively, but I hope you might forgive my boldness."

"Does she?"

He nodded. "She has accepted my offer of marriage—just this night."

"Did you now? And how was that to have been managed?"

Jared looked down, shaking his head. "I know if must sound foolish and rash—"

"And dangerous."

Jared looked up at him. "I will do everything I can to see that she is safe."

"I know you will," Neal answered, "but there is more to life than safety."

Jared pursed his lips. "I do love her."

Neal studied him a moment, then nodded. "Good—see that _she _knows that."

_**Jared closed his door behind him, leaning back against it **_as he studied the sparse furnishings of his chamber as if seeing them for the first time. Realizing that his isolation would soon be coming to an end, as would his time of exile, he tried imagining how he could possibly do all that was being required of him. But by week's end he would be a married man, married to Aileen! Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined such a twist of fate, yet now Edward was seeing to it and giving his blessing. His good will was not without its cost, and the prospect of what he was being asked to do was daunting. Never in his life had he wanted to be in the center of political life, despite the prophecies indicating so. All he had ever wanted was a simple and quiet life, with a wife and children to watch growing up. Yet even in the wanting he'd never truly believed he'd attain such common pleasures in life. Now that he was set upon that course, he had trouble imagining himself in that position.

He wondered where Aileen was at the moment, for Neal had informed him that he planned to go to her quarters to tell her the news. Noticing the sounds of music and shouting he went to his window and gazed down into the bailey, wondering how he could have forgotten. Tonight marked the official opening of tournament, and despite the late hour the bailey was filled with people engaged in various forms of revelry. What if she was out there somewhere in the crowd? It was stifling inside, and almost everyone attended the opening of tournament. Perhaps, if she were outside he could find her first, before he father did. Despite Edward's insistence that they avoid contact he knew he had to see her. And so, striding back toward his door, he flung it open and went out to find her.

_**Aileen whirled out of Benjamin's grasp, **_trying to catch her breath after his exuberant yet clumsy attempt at dancing. He'd spotted her wandering through the market section of the bailey and had asked her for a dance.

"You all right?" he asked, frowning somewhat groggily at her as he came closer.

She laughed at his silly grin, for he was just a boy and meant no harm. "I'm fine, Benjamin—are you?"

He bowed regally and rose too quickly, stumbling a bit sideways. "Not used to strong drink," he laughed good-naturedly, rubbing his face. "But Jared taught me to dance!"

She shook her head and laughed with him. "Did he?" she replied with a doubtful expression, for Ben danced nothing like his knight but she hadn't the heart to tell him. Thankfully it had been a brief dance and she curtsied as another girl came up and grabbed his hand. Off they spun as she scooted away, choosing the less crowded section of the bailey through which to make her escape. Things were getting wilder as the night progressed, and though she had enjoyed the cooler night air she started back to her quarters.

On her way a line of dancers intercepted her, heading toward the bonfire. Suddenly she was overcome with the feeling that someone was watching her. It was an old fear, running from the prospect of being cornered and attack her from behind, so she shook it off. Artus had taught her how to defend herself and Father was tending to some business and therefore still up. Trying to ignore the feeling, she stayed close to the outer perimeter, glancing from time to time to see if anyone might be taking note of her presence. Shifting her gaze to her left she stopped suddenly, her eyes locked with Jared's across the distance separating them. She felt as if the world seemed to dim and mute as she held his gaze, as if they were the only two people in the world.

He stood with his hands upon his hips, his shirt half unlaced and his dark hair tousled. Just looking at him caused a jolt of pleasure to stab her mid-section. Held captive by the troubled look in his eyes, she watched as his lips formed her name. Then a woman fell against his side, nearly unbalancing him as she turned and threw her arms around him, reluctantly breaking eye contact with her. She watched as he set the woman aright and disengaged himself from her grip as he started in her direction despite the protests of the others around him. Embarrassed to have been caught still staring at him, she turned and started toward the keep, afraid that someone might notice her interest in him and take advantage of it.

"_**Aileen, wait!" Father called, surprising her. **_She stopped halfway down the corridor, surprised to see him coming after her in the women's wing. "Are you all right?" he asked as he came up and noted her flushed face.

She wiped the moisture from her brow. "Yes, of course—I just had a rather lively dance with Jared's squire—what's wrong?"

"You were out there alone?" he complained, shaking his head. "Surely you know that's not wise—"

"But it was just too hot in my quarters," she explained, eyeing him critically. "Did you finish your work?"

"I have, but it was not work," he said, lowering his voice and taking her arm as he hurried her toward her quarters. "I've just come from a meeting with Edward and Jared."

"Jared?" she whispered back, glancing behind them but seeing no one. "But I just saw him outside, from across the bailey."

"Then we must discuss an important matter right away, in private."

Remembering the anguish in Jared's expression she had assumed he was being sent away once again, but if he had met with Edward and her father it must have been for entirely different reason. Then she remembered.

"Did you speak to Edward concerning the extensive travel Jared must endure?" she asked hopefully.

He did not answer her until they were in her quarters with the door closed and latched behind them. Then he began to pace.

"You are beginning to worry me, Father—what has happened?"

He stopped and stared at her, shaking his head. "Edward has finally arranged a marriage for you."

She lifted a hand to her heart. "_Me?_ After all this time?"

"I realize this is quite sudden—"

"But my debut resulted in several offers—"

"All of which you rejected—"

"But with whom, surely none of them met his criteria—"

"so he has taken matters into his own hands and has chosen—"

"But Jared and I have already—"

"Jared," he finished at the same time she began to inform him of their decision. For a moment they studied each other in surprise. "He did mention to me that he had already asked you!"

She smiled in surprise at his stern countenance. "I thought you would be happy, Father."

"I would under different circumstances, but _neither_ of you were free to do such a thing!"

She kept seeing the tortured expression on Jared's face, now realizing that he must have just left Edward's office. Her heart skipped a beat. _He doesn't want me after all_.

"He doesn't want me?" she squeaked, covering her mouth with one hand.

"His ransom has finally come, Aileen, but with troubling stipulations—one of which is that he marry before his release."

She stared at him in shock, struggling to piece together the news and Jared's reaction. "He's free if he marries?" she said hopefully.

"Yes but the ransom letter suggested Roanna!"

"Roanna?" she croaked. "Edward is forcing him to marry _Roanna_?"

"He was planning on it but Jared refused."

She stared at him in awe. "He refused his freedom?"

"He did, because of that."

"But he has been praying for his freedom all this time…"

"Thankfully the king has taken his choice into consideration and offered an alternate bride, you! But if word gets out that the two of you were planning on running away together your reputation will be ruined, as will his!"

"I have no reputation, Father!"

"Edward still has final say in your status, and you must learn to respect that!"

She sat down slowly. "We were going to run away together," she admitted.

"Well you had better set aside your plans, for neither of you is free yet. Edward intends to hold some amount of influence over Jared even if he leaves. He has asked him to spy on Llewellyn once he arrives home."

"Spy? But what about his ransom?"

"Prince Llewellyn offered ransom for Jared's brothers, whom Edward has already released. They are on their way to Snowden, while Edward is taking advantage of Jared's desire to reconcile with them by asking him to report any threats originating from Llewellyn."

"Dear God," she breathed, realizing that Jared's expression was no doubt due to this development, rather than the prospect of marrying her. "Has Edward insisted we report to Llewellyn's court?"

"No, he has not, but this places Jared in a difficult and dangerous position."

For some reason Jared had not approached her in public, even though Edward had agreed to their marrying.

"The king wishes your wedding to be a secret," he continued. "It is to occur this Friday at 7, and which we will be provided a celebratory dinner, just for the three of us. You and Jared are to wait until midnight to escape, under cover of darkness and with an armed escort. No one is to know of these plans, Aileen—not even your friends."

She nodded. "All right." _Married to Jared, in two days? And being forced on him as a method of obtaining his ransom? _None of this was what she had expected.

"All of this troubles me a great deal," he said raggedly, "although I do believe Jared will make you a good husband."

"But if I am being forced on him, he will come to resent me," she reasoned.

"I doubt that very much," he soothed, "and judging by the way he looks at you, he is already in love with you. But you must realize how difficult this must be for him, Aileen, as it would be for any man. All this time he has been without his freedom—a very difficult position for a man to be in."

"Yes, I know Father."

"He will be taking you with him into a dangerous and difficult situation, and will need a loyal and supportive wife, not just a loving one. You must be strong, for his sake as well as your own."

She looked up at him, thankful to have such a wise and understanding father. For the first time she realized that in leaving she might not see him again, at least not for some time. The realization bothered her more than she expected, especially because he was all alone except for Roanna.

"What about you, Father?" she said gently. "If I leave, you will be all alone."

He smiled sadly. "I realize that, dear—I have thought about that for a long time. You must however step out and claim your own life and future…perhaps we can visit each other, God willing…and I have Roanna to worry over," he laughed.

Though Roanna and he had never gotten along well, her father was patient and tolerant of Roanna's ways. Perhaps in her absence things would change, she hoped. And for the first time Aileen felt sorry for her.

"I will miss you, Father—and I think Jared will, too."

"And I you...you must pray together, you and Jared. If you are to deal with Llewellyn you need that source of strength. Perhaps the good Lord will grant you favor with both Llewellyn and Edward," he nodded, coming closer to kiss her cheek.

"Thank you for telling me, Father," she said softly, following him to the door.

"Try to get some rest," he advised, unlatching the door. "You have much to do in the next few days, but stay away from him, so no one might suspect."

"I will, Father," she promised, the thought filling her with regret. _What way was this to begin a marriage?_

Waving him good night she closed the door after him, leaning back against it with a sigh. Her mind was filled with racing thoughts, all of which were a mixture of joy and worry. And so she took his advice and began to pray.

_c. 2008 by Christine Levitt_


	9. Chapter 9 Vows

_**Chapter 9 Vows**_

_**She deserves better than this,**_Jared thought as he stood at the altar waiting. Uncharacteristically nervous, he told himself that brides were often late as he shoved aside the guilty thoughts crowding his mind and telling him that he was robbing her of a proper wedding. Of course Aileen should be married in the company of friends and peers, he reasoned. She should have everything a bride could desire and celebrate the occasion with joyous festivity. Instead they were sneaking into the empty chapel at night with only her father to witness the ceremony. Still, he knew that she was doing so willingly—and they'd been given no other choice.

_You could have run away together…_

Hooking a finger inside the collar of his dress shirt, he pulled his attention from the empty threshold and eyed the priest who stood facing the altar as he prayed in whispered silence. Loosening the stiff fabric, Jared swallowed against the dry throat which had plagued him ever since entering this place. It was not that he felt uncomfortable here, for on several previous occasions he'd sat in the back of the empty sanctuary to pray. It was caused more by the deceit with which he was forced to come to this moment. Everything was proceeding much too quickly, from the granting of his ransom and Edward's approval of Aileen to this hastily made attire provided by Edward's tailor. He assumed Aileen's gown had been prepared just as quickly, and he comforted himself with the thought that perhaps a few last minute alterations were being attended to. Eager to see her, he eyed the entrance and waited, feeling more and more apprehensive as the day lengthened toward dusk. Hearing the priest start another section of his prayers he clenched his jaw and frowned. Where was she?

_She's changed her mind…_

Clearing his throat as if to convince himself that was not the case, he watched the priest glance over one shoulder and met his questioning gaze. Squaring his shoulders, he forced an answering smile and told himself that he was being foolish. The priest nodded once and turned back to face the altar, resuming his preparation while Jared reminded himself that he and Aileen had confessed their love for each other. Added to that was their friendship and respect for each other, which would surely prohibit her from betraying him and thus leave him standing here alone. Still, he'd not seen her since the night of his ransom when he had stared at her across the bailey. Edward had insisted they keep their relationship a secret, and in the interim he'd been working from dawn till late into the night training Artus and briefing Edward concerning his work in the Marches. And, by the king's report, Aileen had also been busy apprising her father of all that needed to be done to continue her own work. How odd it had been, he remembered, standing in the dungeons with Edward while he reported on Aileen's activities before showing him the secret tunnel through which he indicated they must depart.

He became aware of the priest finishing and descending the platform without explanation, though he had held up a restraining hand before went through the door adjacent the altar. Left alone and feeling conspicuous, Jared glanced up at the large crucifix suspended above his head, pursing his lips at the sight of the tortured figure artistically displayed upon it. Expelling a frustrated sigh, he shifted his attention back to the entrance and prayed for the Almighty's pardon for what he was about to do.

_You're a fake…_

The words hissed through his mind, making his gut wrench despite his immediate recognition of their source. The voice of the accuser was not unfamiliar to him, yet he swiftly rebuked it. The dark dreams which had haunted him of late were another matter, though with Neal's help he found he was able to sleep better despite them. The lack of travel afforded him a more regular schedule, yet that was about to change again. The door opened and the priest climbed the stairs toward him, but turned and lifted his hands toward the cross while Jared suffered another assault of guilt.

_You're not even Christian,_ the accusation echoed through his mind,_ yet you marry under the authority of the Church? Do you think he will fail to notice? And when he discovers the truth, what can he do but refuse to continue the ceremony? Then what will your little lady do? Surely her father will be displeased—and what about Edward?_

It was true, he admitted—as he'd been ever since agreeing to Edward's plan. Yet what else could he do—take Aileen with him and marry her amid a hasty retreat and before some poor country justice? Leaving and traveling unchaperoned with him would tarnish her reputation for good, and kidnapping a bride was hardly acceptable in any court or town. Worse, Edward would surely have them pursued and separated, and that he would not allow. No, there was no other way, to be sure.

The chime of the clock announced quarter past the seventh hour, prompting the priest to turn and come toward him as he prayed. Staring past him, he ceased mid sentence and Jared turned to see what had interrupted him. Just then Neal entered and on his arm was Aileen's gloved hand, and together they entered the sanctuary and started down the aisle. Holding his breath, Jared stared at her in silence, struck by how lovely she looked. Her eyes gripped his, making him her willing captive while at the same time he became aware of several things all at once.

She was dressed in emerald green, her satin gown beautiful in its simplicity. Its skirt was unusually straight, and the neckline and sleeves were trimmed with dual lines of gold braid and black velvet. The rush lights shone upon her hair as she passed beneath them, making it appear lush and healthy. In her left hand she held a simple bouquet of wild flowers, and as they reached and ascended the stairs she was guided to his side. Neal nodded to him and stepped back as she stopped before him, gazing up and holding his attention. He caught a whiff of the subtle fragrance of her hair and could not help admiring its luster as it hung down to just past her waist. He could not help but notice how the square neckline of her gown afforded him a glimpse of the soft womanly flesh hinted beneath its confines. Snapping his attention back to her eyes, he noted the slight lift of her brows and the hint of challenge in her expression.

_You thought I had a boy's figure to match my disguises? _her expression demanded.

Noting the hint of a tiny smile upon her lips, he found himself nodding before realizing it. When he did he frowned despite the teasing sparkle in her eyes. Never had he seen her look so lovely or animated, nor her figure so fitly displayed—not even at her debut. It seemed as though his surprise amused her, yet for his part he felt sobered by her attraction. She had eyes in which a man could lose himself; now they held him prisoner more easily than any captor with whom he'd previously dealt.

He became aware of the lecture the priest was giving them and fought to concentrate. His mind however sifted through its stages of guilt, for he had always been uncomfortable with any form of deceit, even for a just and proper reason. Quite unlike him, Aileen looked calm and sure, with no trace of doubt revealing itself in her eyes. Her acceptance of the situation began to calm his fears and regrets, and as they stood facing each other he felt all doubt fade and drift away. Despite the glaring injustice of their circumstances she had accepted them, and in fact seemed to relish them. He recalled Edward's insistence that they comply with his every wish, expecting them to quickly consummate the marriage and produce the standard method of proof before riding out into the night to begin their journey. After that he expected them to live as spies, never quite free from his authority. Clenching his jaw in determination, he vowed to take matters into his own hands for once, no matter how much more deceit would be necessary. Edward might be in control now, but once they left this place they would do as their consciences bid them.

Neal stepped close to his side and softly cleared his throat, interrupting his thoughts. One glance at his disapproving expression caused Jared to realize that he was still frowning. The priest motioned for them to turn and face him, so he nodded to Aileen and did so. She focused her attention upon the priest, unintentionally shaming him for his wandering thoughts. Making an effort to concentrate upon the service he felt the weight of Neal's disapproval lift and relax. Yet within his own soul he battled the familiar bitterness tempting him to hold a grudge against his brothers for placing him in this position. Repenting silently, he chose to forgive them and see the hand of God in his dilemma. Had he not been forced to remain here he never would have met Aileen or her father, and for that he had to be grateful to them. So he released the past injustices as well as the present hindrances to starting their life together and instead set his hope upon a better future.

Once again they were instructed to face each other and take each other's hands. When he did the lacy gloves she wore prevented him from touching her skin, yet he gently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, warming his gaze as she looked up to meet it. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, shifting his attention to their soft invitation. He felt a wave of desire sweep through him, for ever since he'd kissed her they had troubled his thoughts and dreams countless times. Their recent separation had proven difficult for him, causing his desire for her to grow into torment unlike any he'd ever experienced. It crumbled his iron will and shook his well seasoned discipline off its firm foundations. Even now it obscured the finer details of the ceremony as he listened somewhat distractedly, taking the opportunity to study her up close. And as she held his gaze he realized that she seemed to be suffering the same battle.

Her eyes traveled slowly over his features then up to his hair as he gripped her hands tighter. When she shifted her attention across his shoulders and down his chest she swayed closer, looking up guiltily when she realized it. He feasted his gaze upon her face, noting how the light painted her skin a soft golden which made her glow. _How could anyone think her plain?_ he wondered, startled when he heard a pause in the service.

Glancing toward the priest he repeated his vows, surprised that the ceremony had progressed so quickly. While she did the same he shifted his attention to her father, who formally presented her to him before handing over a plain gold band.

"This is her mother's ring," Neal interrupted, nodding to the priest before stepping back into his place at Jared's side.

Aileen removed her glove and waited while he slowly slid it onto her finger, noting the tears misting her eyes as she glanced at her father.

"With this ring I thee wed," he repeated, capturing her attention once again when he curled his hand around hers. He was handed a chalice of wine from which he drank, offering it to her afterward. The priest held out a wafer but he declined, raising three sets of brows before they continued. He'd decided to accept only those elements which his conscience allowed, thankful that the priest did not press him to comply. The subject had arisen a few times in the past, and had prompted a short meeting during which he had been forced to explain his objections. Without having revealing too much of his background they had been accepted, though somewhat reluctantly. And now as they knelt to receive the benediction and kiss of blessing, he breathed a sigh of relief for being allowed to abstain. Remembering how he had been forced to explain the limits of his personal recognition of Messiah, he thanked his upbringing in the Scriptures which had not disappointed him.

He leaned toward Aileen to pass on the blessing of the kiss, touching his lips to her brow as they were pronounced man and wife. She lifted her hands to his arms and gripped them for support as he helped her up. Neal kissed her cheek and shook his hand as the priest stepped back once having offered his congratulations. Dismissing them abruptly, he turned to leave as they stood watching him descend the altar and head toward the door, clearly eager to retire for the night. Aileen squeezed his arm and smiled up at him mischievously.

Neal huffed in objection. "I doubt he could have performed a faster mass," he complained under his breath.

"Oh Father, don't grumble so," she whispered as he preceded them down the stairs. "It was fine, wasn't it Jared?"

He gripped her arm to help her down the stairs, having previously noted the height of her heels. "It was adequate," he agreed, wondering how on earth he might inform her that he did not consider them truly married—at least not yet. _This was only to satisfy Edward and his court,_ he reminded himself.

Neal opened the door and stepped into the corridor, meeting the friar undoubtedly assigned to escort them to a private dining room. "All according to plan," he added, following the man.

Jared slipped an arm around her waist as they followed, glancing down at her and noting the relief flooding her expression. She smiled up at him but said nothing, and they continued down the corridor as Neal conversed with the man. They entered a chamber at the end of the hall, but Jared guided her to one side and turned to face her. Pulling her into his arms, he lifted a hand to her cheek and bent toward her.

"Jared," she whispered in warning before he kissed her properly, unable to help himself. But she gripped his waist and sighed at the contact of their lips, as if she too had waited too long. He teased her lips with soft kisses, straightening to study their effect. After a moment her eyes opened. "I cannot think when you do that," she added in a soft whisper.

He smiled down at her. "Nor can I," he whispered back, taking her hand and slowly guiding her toward the room. "And now we must not keep your father waiting."

She nodded, but judging by her expression neither of them would be able to concentrate much upon anything else.

"_**I cannot believe how hungry I've suddenly become!"**_ she breathed, leaning back to allow the server to remove her empty bowl. They had already been served salad and now a hearty soup, but Jared, she noted, had only tasted his. He sat reclining at her side, his attention upon Neal as her father explained how he had met her mother and they had married. One uplifted hand supported his jaw, she noted, and the tension in him was obvious. Confident that neither she nor her father had caused it, she sensed his concern over their upcoming departure but shoved the prospect from her own mind.

They were served vegetables, rice and roasted pork, all of which tasted wonderful but was too much for them to finish. The special cake provided for them was only sampled, for the heat of the night pressed heavily upon them.

"Everything is delicious," Neal declared, finishing his account and his meal. Obviously feeling no conviction for having dominated the dinner conversation, he patted his stomach and smiled at Jared's faraway expression. "Don't you think so, Jared?"

He nodded and smiled distractedly, though his eyes narrowed upon the pork roast he'd left untouched. "Yes, quite adequate."

"But you've not touched your pork," he said politely, eyeing the half eaten side dishes upon his trencher.

"I'm afraid not," he said without explanation, nodding to her as she patted her napkin to her lips.

"I've never cared for meat too much," she confessed, glancing at her own sampled roast. The mixture of buttered vegetables had been much more to her liking.

"Fortunately there was much from which to choose," Neal sighed, slowly getting up and glancing toward the window. Through it bright moonlight streamed into the room. "I'm afraid I've lingered far too late into the night, and hope I've not disrupted your schedule."

"Not at all," Jared assured him, also getting up and touching her chair before she rose. "We've enjoyed the opportunity to share more than a ceremony with you."

"It was a bit of an unconventional wedding," she admitted, wondering when they might next sit and enjoy a formal meal. For the first time she realized that she had no idea how long their journey would take, nor what their destination was to be.

"That is unfortunately true," Neal agreed, "but what matters is that you are both together now. You have your whole lives before you, and will enjoy a much more settled existence, God willing."

Jared nodded. "I do regret that we must part so soon, sir."

Aileen studied his sober expression. _Why must he look so handsome, yet so troubled?_

"We shall meet again," Neal answered, coming up to shake his hand once again. "I am hopeful that I may someday come visit you both."

"That would be wonderful, Father," she sighed, opening her arms to him. Hugging him fiercely, she smiled when he turned and embraced Jared.

"Will you be reaching your home in a few days?" he asked Jared.

Jared stepped back and put an arm around her. "That depends upon which route we take."

Neal nodded, his own expression darkening. "Though I trust you implicitly for Aileen's safe arrival, I do feel some concern about your expected duties for Edward."

"Fear not," Jared assured him. "I've long served under a distant command, and have learned to be accountable to the greater realm of authority."

Neal eyed him a moment, then sighed. "Good—well, I must bid you both adieu," he announced, kissing her cheek in farewell.

Aileen watched Jared escort him to the door, where her father patted his arm affectionately. Grateful for the relationship they shared, she watched the two men she loved most in the world say goodbye.

"We will send word when we've safely arrived," Jared vowed, as her father raised a hand and left them. He stood watching until they heard no other sound of his steps.

She waited while he closed the door and turned to face her, running a hand through his hair. "I feel as if I am robbing him of his greatest treasure," he admitted.

She smiled through her sheen of tears. "I feel the same way," she breathed, reaching for him as he came toward her. Winding her arms around him, she rested her cheek over his thudding heart.

His arms tightened around her and she felt his hand slide into the hair at the back of her head. "Do you think he will manage well enough, in your absence?"

"He's always wanted me to marry and be happy," she said before looking up at him. "And I am happy, Jared."

He held her gaze. "I deeply regret the pall cast over this day."

"It is hardly your fault," she insisted, pulling away but trailing her fingers over his hand until he threaded his fingers through hers. Tugging him toward the window seat, she sat and half turned to face him as he did. "I've had no chance to ask you about your home, or the journey."

"If we make good progress it should take three days," he informed her, resting his head back against the wall. His thumb slowly circled hers, teasing her senses though she doubted he intended to do so.

There was a restlessness in him which was troubling, but she dismissed it as the newly acquired responsibilities he faced in taking a wife.

"How hard will the riding prove?" she wanted to know, for in her estimation the land through which they must pass was rugged and not marked by many villages or towns.

"It is before the fall snows, so we should manage it well enough."

"Do you anticipate encountering trouble along the way, Jared?"

He lifted a hand to her hair, gently fingering a loose strand as his eyes pierced hers. "Do you?"

She held his gaze, blushing when she realized that her worries discounted his ability to protect her. "No," she told herself more than him. "I trust you completely."

"But?"

She turned her head, feeling as if she were turning crimson. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at sleeping on hard ground, despite camping with Father as a child." There was a pause as he considered this.

"I would spare you the experience," he answered, and she looked at him with relief. "We should reach the first village after nightfall tomorrow."

"So we shall avail ourselves of accommodations," she hinted with a smile. "I do like to maintain cleanliness as much as possible."

"You don't care for cold mountain streams, then?"

"I prefer to utilize whatever comforts present themselves," she stated.

He reached up to slip one hairpin from her hair, pausing momentarily to assure himself of having her permission. She nodded and lifted a hand to help him take the top part down. It was far too formal a style to wear when riding horseback, she realized. Watching him hold the pin as his eyes followed her every gesture, he sighed tiredly.

"I sometimes find the forests cleaner than most inns," he said somewhat distractedly.

Secretly thrilled by his concentration on as simple as task as taking down her hair, she smiled at him. "Is that so?" she said softly, feeling a flutter of nervousness deep within in her. _What awaits us tonight?_ she wondered, avoiding his eyes as she unbound her hair beneath his scrutiny.

_Kiss him and stop worrying!_ a voice in her mind teased.

"Unfortunately it is," he said softly before he caught her hand.

She looked up, finding his eyes narrowed with concern. "Do you fear me, Aileen?" he whispered.

"No," she insisted, her nervousness increasing. Shrugging, she smiled. "I am however unsure of what to do."

"What do you wish to do?" he said softly.

Feeling herself blush, she cupped his hand between hers and squeezed it. "I wish we could stay here tonight," she confessed in a whisper, unable to tell him that she longed to lie with him and feel his arms around her.

His eyes fired with understanding and apparent approval. He lifted her hands to kiss her knuckles. "Edward has other plans," he said sternly.

Daring to discuss the unmentionable, she nevertheless felt she must. "Does he require…proof?"

He rested their joined hands upon his thigh and shook his head. "He does, but there is something I wish to discuss first—"

"I just started my monthly flux," she blurted out, interrupting him to state the hated reality of her condition. Feeling a mixture of horror, dread and embarrassment, she knew she would surely certainly be a disappointment to him. Yet as his expression changed from shock to hope she felt even more upset and confused.

"You have?" he choked, watching her carefully.

"It just happened," she breathed, pulling her hands from his to bend her head and cover her face. "I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry?" he repeated, his voice sounding thick. "Why should you feel sorry?"

She shook her head, unable to answer until he gently pulled her hands down. "It has ruined everything, and is a week early—"

"You don't understand," he interrupted, squeezing her hand. "This solves at least one of our problems."

She looked up in confusion. "But which one, and how?"

"The problem of providing proof," he stated, taking both her hands. "We will use your condition to our advantage, thereby providing proof that we have consummated our marriage."

Studying his expression, not sure she liked his reaction. "Were you _looking_ for a substitute?"

His hopeful expression darkened. "It's not what you think—surely you could not help but notice that I did not fulfill communion at the ceremony."

She nodded. "I did, but I just assumed you hadn't had the opportunity to prepare a confession beforehand."

He shook his head. "I could not take it because I am not Christian..."

Stunned, she gripped his hands tighter. "But how could you not be, marrying in the Church—are you saying that our marriage is _invalid_?"

"It is valid," he insisted, "to you, your father and this court."

She shook her head. "But not to _you_?"

He sighed in frustration. "I'm Jewish, Aileen, though I believe in the Saviour, and serve Him alone."

"But you've been knighted under the Church," she stated dazedly. "How could that happen without swearing your allegiance to her?"

"I recognize the Church but hold to my own faith," he defended, clearly unsettled by her reaction and the way she flung his hands off.

"If you object to marrying me you must say so at once!" she croaked, her voice abandoning her.

He studied her in obvious shock. "How could you think I might object to you, when it is you who may very well object to me?"

She put a hand to her head, her heart racing. "I am Christian, and Jews are not to intermarry!"

"For reasons which have nothing to do with us," he stated emphatically.

"What about your family, and your people? Surely they would object to me!"

"What matters is how we look upon each other, Aileen."

She shook her head. "You know how much I love you, but we live in a world filled with prejudices—"

"I love you, and I believe you love me," he insisted. "My family knows nothing of my true origin, save for my father."

"Father!" she gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "What if he doesn't approve?"

"Your father knows, Aileen—I told him some time ago. His only reservations were the same as yours, the prejudices of others."

"Father knew, and never told me?" she croaked, though she was greatly relieved that he did not object.

"He wanted to tell you, but I asked him to allow me."

"Jared, why didn't you tell me before we married?" she choked.

He pursed his lips. "I could not lose you," he admitted.

Staring at him a moment, she was suddenly flooded with understanding and love. "You thought I would reject you?"

He nodded, glancing away. "It would certainly not be the first time."

She gripped his arms, forcing him to look back at her. "I love you for who you are, not what."

"But you must accept _what_ I am—if you do not, there is no real basis for our love."

She considered this a moment, realizing that he was right. "Then I accept what you are as well, based upon what little I do know. Perhaps you could teach me concerning what I must know."

"All right," he agreed. "Then we shall start now—for though we are legally bound, I must ask you to consider additional vows."

She nodded. "Agreed." He studied her a moment, took her hands and got up. "Now?" she whispered, having suspected he would wish them to be married in his faith at a later point.

"I shall pray, but you must respond with either your objection or agreement."

"All right," she answered, listening intently as he began to pray.

"God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob," he began as he lifted his eyes heavenward. "We stand before you this night, confessing our need for you."

When he glanced down at her, she nodded in acceptance, already feeling relieved at the truth in his words.

"We thank you that you have brought us together and to this moment," he continued, "recognizing that it is your divine will which has led us thus far."

She nodded, allowing him to continue.

"You have revealed yourself to mankind by your visitation to earth," he said with eyes closed, "sacrificing yourself for our redemption. We confess our sins as we lay claim to your atonement according to your covenants and promises outlined in Holy Scripture. Now if you will be with us and watch over us as we join our lives together and embark upon this journey, and if you will give us food to eat and clothes to wear so that we return safely to my father's house, then you LORD will be our God. We dedicate ourselves to you, seeking your strength and grace not only for ourselves but for any children and their descendants, should you bless our lives with them."

Gripping his hands she choked back her tears. His prayer was beautiful, sounding so truthful and forthright. It was not unlike the tenets of her own faith, and brought her relief and joy at its ancient truths.

"We therefore commit ourselves, our marriage and our future to you," he vowed, "and of all that you give us, we will give back to you a tenth."1

Waiting until he breathed a sigh of relief and glanced down at her, she studied his unreadable expression. "That was wonderful," she whispered.

Undaunted, he stared intently at her, and she knew in the moment that if there was any uncertainty or falsehood in her he would discern it. "Are you in complete agreement?" he asked softly.

"I am," she confessed. "I had no idea you could pray so beautifully, Jared."

He frowned. "Unlike the liturgical hierarchy, I strive not for beauty but for truth."

She nodded. "It sounded familiar somehow."

"Have you then accepted the vows?"

"Yes—they are perfectly aligned with my own beliefs."

"Good," he said with obvious relief, reaching for her hand to guide her back to their seat by the windows. "It is Jacob's prayer, in part," he told her as they sat together.

"I remember now—that was the vow Jacob made to God after he saw the Lord in a dream, standing above the ladder between heaven and earth."

He nodded soberly. "It was also his prayer as he fled for his life, fearing his brother's wrath."

She took his hand between hers, daring to ask him about his own journey. "Do you also pray to be reconciled with your family?"

He swallowed with some difficulty. "I have forgiven them, yet I do struggle with the feelings left in the wake of their betrayal."

"Like Joseph in Egypt?" she gently prompted.

"Yes," he admitted, drawing her closer. "Exactly like Joseph."

She wound her arms about his waist as he leaned back into the cushions. They held each other, grateful for having settled the issue of his identity for the time being. The prospect of their future together loomed ominously over them, and as the time for their departure drew near he broke the companionable silence between them with a sigh.

"If only we might have enjoyed what most couples do this night," he whispered, not flinching when she pushed away from him.

_Footnote __1 __Genesis 28:20-22_

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, laying a palm upon his chest. "My excitement must have brought it on prematurely."

He reached up to trace a fingertip across her cheek. "I do not refer to that alone," he clarified. "We might still lie in each other's arms, enjoying each other's company were the opportunity given."

"You would be content with that?" she asked in a whisper, thrilled that he had considered it as had she.

He nodded, coaxing her back into his arms. She kissed him sweetly before resting her head back down upon his shoulder.

"'So Jacob served seven years to get Rachel, but they seemed like only a few days to him because of his love for her,'"2 he said softly. "Like Jacob, I too can wait."

His words thrilled her and she closed her eyes with a contented sigh, lulled into drowsiness by the heat as well as the steady thump of his heart beneath her cheek. After some time he stirred, coaxing her to a sitting position before kissing her forehead.

"I'm afraid it is time," he said quietly. They parted and she entered the bedchamber where she'd been told her things would be left earlier that day. Changing and washing as quickly as she could manage, she imagined him doing the same and felt a shiver of anticipation. Setting aside her feelings, she dealt with the problem of her monthly flux, padding her clothing for protection and taking the soiled linen in hand. Reaching out to disturb the neatness of the bed, she smeared her "proof" for the supposed consummation of their marriage into the sheets. Disgusted but deciding it was fit retribution for all they had been forced to give up for this court, she turned to wrap it and tuck it away into a separate compartment of her bag for later disposal.

_I shall bury it in the woods far away _she vowed, picking up her bag as she left the chamber. One backward glance at the bed which should have witnessed the start of their marriage, she turned to rejoin her husband in name only.

_**Jared met her gaze across the room, blindly finishing fastening his tunic**_. With one look he knew that she had accomplished her mission and that they were now officially partners in deceit. One lift of her chin told him that she had no regrets, and he bent to quickly gather his things and shove them into the saddlebags. She leaned against the doorjamb watching him, her bold interest thrilling him and causing him to imagine what their married life together might become.

_You have chosen well, Jared…_

The confirming approval surprised him in its timing, but not its message. How often had he heard that soft still voice surrounding him while at the same time welling up from inside his own soul! As he walked toward her he paused to hold out his hand to her.

"Come," he whispered, pursing his lips as she clasped his hand. He leaned past her to open the door, check to be sure no one was about and then step into the corridor. Leading her along the route he'd been advised, he silently traversed the back recesses of the chapel, descended the stairways and started across the dark silent courtyard. The yards were visible in the moonlight which was considerably less brilliant, causing him to gaze up at the night sky. Clouds were gathering in the north and as they passed through the herb gardens and entered the back of the main keep he worried about the weather.

Silently pausing to let her precede him into the corridor which led to the stairs, he made up his mind concerning Edward's escort and decided they would break away before planned. It was the only way to maintain the utmost secrecy, for not even Artus or his men could truly be trusted. As they descended the stairs to the level of the dungeons he stopped again and felt for the hidden key, inserting it into the lock of the iron gate guarding the tunnels. It creaked open loudly, causing them to hold their breath as they waited and listened. Again making sure no one followed, he led her down to the lowest level, keeping her close and sensing her fear. Thankfully no prisoners were currently in hold, and as he unlatched the exit door he felt her shudder as she leaned against his back. Taking a moment to scoop her into his arms, he held her while she gripped his arms tightly. Then with a silent nod, she eased away and straightened her shawl. He drew up her bag onto his shoulder from where it had slipped and guided her outside the keep. They followed the cow path toward the river and hurried toward the meeting place in the forest clearing.

"We must hurry," he whispered. "Artus won't wait longer than a few minutes."

_Footnote __2 __Genesis 29:20_

_c. 2009 by Christine Levitt_


	10. Chapter 10 The Escort

_**Chapter 10 The Escort**_

_**As soon as he stepped from the tent he spied Artus**_ seated by the campfire, surrounded by his men. With resolute steps he headed toward them, attempting to shake off the heavy exhaustion draping over him. Checking the perimeter of the camp as he passed, he noted the slow movement of the others as they roused themselves to another hot day. Wiping their brows and tugging dampened shirts away from their chests in an effort to cool off, they slowly prepared for another hard day of riding.

All night they'd traveled to stay out of sight, making camp just before dawn and posting guards while the others slept. Once settled inside the tent provided for them, he had held Aileen in his arms as they shared the cot. After she'd fallen asleep he had risen to pace the narrow confines of the tent, praying for wisdom and protection despite the restless state of his mind. Though the prospect of freedom brought with it a sense of relief and hope, it came with new responsibilities and demands—the greatest being a wife with whom he had somehow managed to fall in love. Now he must take her home and try to shield her from his family while at the same time dealing with their betrayal of him. Added to this was the nagging feeling that all was not right with the escort provided. Even a walk encircling the camp had not convinced him they were safe. So upon his return he had made a crude bed upon the ground and prayed for her protection, dozing off for only a few hours. Her soft kiss had awakened him, immediately tempting him to pull her into his arms and seal their union in the accustomed manner. It had taken all his remaining strength to refrain from doing so, and to make matters worse he sensed that she did not truly understand why he had.

Now, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck, he noted the interested stares of the men and prepared for the teasing which was sure to follow. Pursing his lips, he kicked dirt onto the fire and bent to pour himself a drink.

"Look who greets the dawn," Artus crowed, smiling devilishly when he'd glanced up and frowned in silent greeting. "You're looking a bit peaked, Sir Jared—too hot in that tent to sleep?"

Taking note of the silent animosity from the one they called Otis, he lifted the cup to his lips. "It was fine," he murmured, choosing not to upbraid them for making the fire when their goal was to travel undetected.

"Looks the same to me," Rhys drawled before shoving a strip of dried bacon into his mouth. He was second in command to Artus, new to the sentry guard.

Sitting opposite Artus, Jared stretched out his stiff leg as he scanned their surroundings. "Everything made ready?"

Otis rose abruptly without acknowledging him, throwing the remains of his drink into the ashes. "It is now," he grumbled and turned to leave. "I'll start packing up," he told Artus.

Choosing not to comment upon his insubordination, Jared shot Artus a questioning look.

"This is his last journey of the season," Rhys explained, watching him break off a piece of trencher bread to break the fast.

"Yet only the beginning of _yours_," Artus teased.

Jared met his knowing look while Rhys coughed meaningfully. "I wouldn't want to face those mountains this time of year," he warned, nodding toward the tent, "especially not with a _woman _in tow."

"You've never seen her in action," Artus disagreed. "She's tougher than she looks."

"And how would _you_ know?" Rhys challenged, his intent to bait Jared's jealousy clear. "Did you ever travel with her, besides spending more time with her than your own fiancée?"

Artus met Jared's look without any guilt in his own. "We have hiked into the woods many a time, though it has been some years."

Jared swallowed his bread and eyed Rhys meaningfully. "My _wife _and I anticipate no threat to our journey," he replied casually.

Rhys shook his head, unconvinced. "I've heard Cymri winters come early."

"That is an exaggeration," he defended, "not that it is any of your concern."

"Well, she had better rouse herself soon," he drawled, rising to his feet. "It is going to be a long, _rough_ ride…"

Artus choked on his dried fruit while Jared slowly rose. "She's packing her things as we speak," he defended. "I suggest we do the same."

"Aileen is an early riser," Artus croaked, "she will keep up without any complaint."

"What makes you the expert?" Rhys scowled.

'She's my _friend _fool!" he shot back, punching him in the arm. "And there's no use trying to get a rise out of Jared—_he's_ the one she chose."

"You think I don't know that?" he mumbled, snatching up his bag.

Artus eyed him critically. "You sound jealous!" he judged, laughing at the discovery and standing to jab an elbow into Jared's side.

"She took care 'o me when I was hurt jousting last year," Rhys explained, finally meeting Jared's warning look. "That's all.._."_

Heaving a sigh, Jared glanced toward the zenith of the blazing sun and let the matter drop. "It will be good to plant my feet in one place and get a bit of rest," he said more to himself.

"Rest?" Artus snorted. "Now that would be a miracle—seeing _you_ at rest _and_ settling into married life."

Jared shifted his attention to first one, then the other. "Neither of you are qualified to speak on either matter," he said flatly, interrupted by a loud crash coming from the direction of the tent.

They turned to watch the flap fly upward before a basinful of water shot from the entrance. A pail flew out after it, then Aileen stepped out and planted her hands upon her hips while she scanned her surroundings.

"Speak of the devil," Artus said softly, "and looking young and fresh despite the heat—if I may say."

"You may not," Jared drawled, his eyes upon his wife. When she spotted him she lifted a hand in greeting and started toward him. As she did a wave of possessiveness swept over him, startling him with its appearing and strength. Aware that every male eye in the camp was riveted to her, he nodded to her in silent greeting, watching a smile light her face. Behind him someone cleared their throat and he turned to see Rhys staring at him expectantly. So for that matter was Artus.

"What?" he demanded, absently rubbing his sore thigh.

"Nothing," Rhys answered, shaking his head slowly as if failing to discern whatever it was Aileen saw in her new husband.

"We are merely unaccustomed to escorting newlyweds," Artus offered in explanation.

"'Newlyweds?'" he repeated, not caring for the label.

Artus slapped his back good naturedly. "We mean no harm," he said as he started toward the tent. Upon approaching Aileen he saluted her. "Good day, Lady Aileen!" he sang out. "I'm off to see to milady's filly for her!"

Punching him in the stomach as they passed, she smiled smugly at his groan of pain. Watching her with growing admiration, Jared made no attempt to hide his pleasure with her.

_Where did she learn to punch a man like that? _he wondered, making note to respect her left hook. Upon reaching him she half curtsied and stopped two paces away.

"Good morning, milord," she breathed, lifting one hand to absently comb her hair back with her fingers.

_She does look young and fresh this morning, _he mused as they studied each other in silent appraisal. Aware of the scrutiny of the others, he greeted her with lowered voice, hoping the men recognized and accepted the fact that she was his.

"Milady," he answered, marveling at how soft and flawless her skin looked in the light. She looked well rested, her color high and her eyes bright. The simple dark grey gown she wore brought out the red-copper highlights in her hair. He had assumed she would dress in her boy's clothing in order to deflect any attention away from their party, yet instead she'd donned a gown and obviously taken the time to look feminine and attractive.

Her eyes warmed beneath his study and when he searched for an appropriate addition to his greeting she rose to her toes, laid a hand on his arm and kissed his cheek. Before he could reply she turned, walked casually toward the extinguished fire and accepted the cup she was handed.

"Thank you, Rhys," she smiled, lifting it to her lips as she turned to hold Jared's gaze. Rhys answered with a mumbled 'milady' before stalking off, shooting Jared a warning look as he passed.

She leaned toward him with a slight smile. "He is intimidated by you," she whispered, raising her mug to her lips.

He studied her expression a moment, then glanced toward the retreating knight. "Do you believe so?"

She nodded as he reached for the trencher bread. Breaking her off a piece, he handed it to her and folded his arms.

"I trust you slept well?" he asked gently, remembering fondly how she looked when she slept.

"I did, kind sir," she answered, her eyes, "and you?"

He glanced off toward the silent wood with a frustrated sigh. "In truth, not well."

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

"Stay close to me today," he ordered softly, meeting her gaze. "We approach the Marches by mid afternoon."

She nodded, biting into her bread and taking a sip of her drink. But her eyes questioned his caution.

"Something is amiss," he admitted, "though I cannot place it."

There was a call as their tent collapsed into a heap at Artus's bidding. His men were lifted and folded it quickly, turning to pack it away as others readied the horses.

"Surely you don't question Artus's men?"

He glanced down at her. "There is always the possibility of betrayal."

"I would have suspected outlaws or robbers to be more of a risk."

"Would that it be only that kind of threat."

Suddenly she moved from his side to stand before him, her back to the tent. "I do confess some reservation with the one they call Otis," she whispered. "He sends chills up and down my spine."

Jared stiffened. "Has he threatened you?"

"No, but there is something about his eyes…"

Dragging his attention from the man in question, he touched her elbow. "Walk with me."

They turned and slowly strolled deeper into the wood, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to be together. He heard the gentle gurgling of water off in the distance, and overhead birds chirped lazily despite the heat of the day. Wondering how to inform her of his plan, he thought it best to state it plainly and quickly, now that no one else was about.

"When I give you this signal," he began, rotating his hand twice, "I want you to heel your mare to a gallop and follow me as fast as you can."

She stared up at him in surprise. "But why?"

Placing his hands upon her shoulders, he glanced toward the distant camp before meeting her questioning gaze. "Today we part company with the others—it must occur before we reach the Marches."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I thought we were safer with an escort."

"At first, so did I," he admitted, glancing back toward their activity. "Yet something warns me not to trust them. Your reaction to Otis only confirms it."

"But Artus would have selected only his best men—"

"I am sure he did, from those available."

She studied him a moment. "You would have chosen others," she guessed.

He nodded. "It is best we part ways before discovering the reason for our uneasiness."

She eyed the others. "But how will we manage it? Surely they will come after us."

"There is a place where the trail narrows to a canyon, allowing one rider through at a time," he told her. "That will prove our best chance to escape. It is not along the route planned, but I will let Artus know that there is another way which is less known. Then you and I will be sure to be at the front of the column, understand?"

She nodded, despite looking concerned. "He may still pursue us, Jared."

He pursed his lips, trusting that Artus knew him well enough to note his guarded manner around the others. "I am trusting that he will allow us the opportunity."

"Have you discussed this with him?"

"No," he said, reaching for her hand and starting back. "We must pray that he does the right thing, when the time comes."

They walked in silence but she squeezed his hand as if for assurance's sake. "What about the chieftains of the Marches—will they let us pass through without escort?"

"They have already been forwarded notices of our coming," he assured her. "Should you and I arrive without Edward's men, they may not even notice. If they do, we shall have only one problem, and that is you."

"Me?" she squeaked, staring at him in surprise. "But I shall change into boy's clothing—"

"I speak of the chieftains near my lands," he emphasized, squeezing her hand back. "Now that we've married and return to claim said lands, those who have until now enjoyed their use may not wish to yield their place."

She stared at him a moment. "We shall have to fight _squatters_?"

He nodded. "The estate has lain vacant since before I left for the Holy Land."

"I hadn't thought of that—yet surely word of your ransom will alert them to your return. Perhaps instead you may be met with a welcome?"

He glanced at her doubtfully. "I suppose that is possible…"

"Jared, I sense there is something else you are not telling me."

As they drew closer he scanned the perimeter of the camp. "Even if there are squatters and we manage to dispatch them elsewhere, my meeting an untimely end before producing an heir is another cause for concern."

"Untimely death?" she repeated in a whisper, her expression horrified.

"That status would make me a very desirable target, in the eyes of some."

"Not your family?"

"No, but rival clans," he stated with a frown. "I would have spared you all this, but now that we are together you must know what we may face, Aileen. As we draw near I must ask that you stay in a safe place while I take the opportunity to assess the condition of the estate."

"You plan on leaving me behind?"

"It would be just until I can be sure it is safe for us to take residence there."

"Jared," she said in a hoarse voice, her expression troubled, "we should have consummated our marriage, instead of waiting—"

"It could not be helped," he insisted, meeting her gaze. _And not under those circumstances._

"What can we do?" she worried. "I don't want anything to happen to you—"

"The matter lies in the future," he assured her. "As for today's concerns—can you handle a bow?"

She stared at him in shock. "Today? But why—"

"Can you?" he asked quietly, eyeing the others as they reentered the camp.

"My aim is not always good," she whispered back, smiling toward Artus and his men, "but I am very good with knives."

He took note of her mischievous smile. "Is that so?"

She nodded. "And poison."

"This is a serious matter," he warned, "not a game."

She lifted her chin. "You needn't worry about my safety," she huffed, veering off toward the horses with quickened steps.

He followed, catching up quickly. "Aileen—"

"I _know_ you will protect me," she panted as she rushed toward her horse, ignoring the questioning looks from the men. " But I am hardly helpless!"

"I know you're not," he said, catching her arm. "I'm sorry—all of that was rather sudden—"

She stopped abruptly to plant her hands upon her hips. "It was not the message, but the delivery of it!"

He raised a hand to the back of his neck. "I'm sorry—I do not mean to be gruff or intimidating."

One of the squires came toward them with a red face, handing over their reins before rushing off. Leading their horses toward the line already forming, Aileen looked up at him, a smile lifting the corners of her lips.

"Still, you are," she said softly.

"Gruff, or intimidating?" he wanted to know.

"Both, though I imagine it is more habit than intent," she said with a teasing light in her eyes.

He nodded curtly. "Perhaps you might aid me in breaking the habit."

"I would be happy to, milord," she said sweetly. "It is always good to feel needed."

He turned to face her as she prepared to mount. "I do need you," he admitted softly, glancing toward the others as they passed by.

She reached up to place her hands upon his arms. "Not as much as I need you."

He saw the warmth in her eyes and with complete disregard for the other men leaned close, gently brushing his lips over hers. At her soft intake of breath her grip tightened, so he lingered over the kiss now that they were the last ones to ride off. After a moment he drew back, gripped her waist and lifted.

"Up you go," he ordered, avoiding her gaze as she settled herself. While he secured her bag he saw a flash of bare leg as she shifted and quickly pushed her gown back down. Looking up, he saw her grip the reins with a knowing smile.

"At your signal, milord," she reminded him softly. Quickly turning to tie his own bag to the saddle, he then vaulted and rode off after her. They drew up to the rear of the column where Artus was doing his best to keep from laughing aloud. Rhys only shook his head in silent objection to the task.

"Gentlemen," he greeted them, moving to flank Aileen's mare as he scowled to them in warning. _Not a word,_ he told them with his expression. Turning to face forward, they started off again toward the Marches.

_**Using their break to change into her disguise**_ and bury the fake consummation cloth in the woods, she felt another stab of guilt at their deceit concerning the supposed loss of her virginity. With a swipe of her hand she imagined Elinor and the ladies of the court examining it, a detestable practice which endured for God only knew what reason. She and Jared had done what they must, she told herself, and it was only a matter of time before the act was completed, thankfully without witnesses. As she rolled her damp chemise and gown into a square and packed them away, she allowed herself the luxury of leaving the top fastenings of the tunic undone. Perspiration gathered between her breasts and beneath her hair, even during the short time she'd loosened it only to tuck it up under a cap. Their trunks were to be delivered to the village nearest Jared's estate within the week, and she thought of the wedding gifts from Father, Edward and Elinor. They had not seen them, but everything was to have been packed and readied for its own secret journey, hopefully arriving without any trouble. So would they begin their married life together, assuming they managed to safely arrive and evict anyone currently occupying Jared's lands.

"Ready?" a voice whispered, startling her. She ducked, peering through the bushes to see who it was. Jared stood with his back to her, partially hidden among the trees as if he too had sneaked off.

_How did he come so close without my hearing? _she wondered, telling herself to be more attentive in the future.

"One moment," she whispered back, smiling at his gentlemanly behavior which dictated that he give her privacy. In light of his predictable manners she had the strangest urge to pull him into the bushes and kiss him senseless.

"Aileen?" he whispered, daring to turn his head halfway toward her. "The others are leaving."

Poking her head up she smiled, tempted to pursue her urge just in order to shake that iron will and control of his. He needed to relax, she decided, and it was up to her to take on the task. It had been a very long time since she had heard him laugh, at her debut, and she wanted to experience the wonder of it all over again. As well as a multitude of other emotions.

"I'm afraid I need a bit of help," she said softly, with sudden inspiration. She was so thankful to have him in her life, and it was about time he knew it.

He turned and she saw the concern in his eyes. A tiny stab of guilt pierced her heart, but she wagged a finger to beckon him close. Focusing upon the memory of how it felt to be held in his arms, she once again chastised herself for falling asleep on him back in the tent.

He glanced furtively around before coming closer to the bushes. "What is the problem?" he whispered.

Seeing that no one about, she reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging him back into the bushes with her. He nearly stumbled but stretched out a hand to grip the rocks for support, though he bent low next to her. Staring at her in surprise and concern, he touched her shoulder. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine," she breathed, reaching up to thread her fingers along the edges of his half-opened tunic. "Just lonely…"

"We must be off—" he objected before she pulled him closer. His eyes lit with silvery light as he studied her determined expression.

"I missed you," she confessed, sliding her fingers up the side of his neck, "lying alone on that cot all night."

His gaze narrowed upon her and she felt the air crackle between them at his pause. Then he slowly touched a fingertip to her lips, his other arm drawing her closer.

"Take care, milady," he warned softly, his gaze dropping to her lips as he traced the tip of his finger along her lower lip. "Such distraction can be risky."

Undeterred, she slid her hands up and over his shoulders, loving the strength of his body. The pleasant scent that was uniquely his teased her senses, and she had a wicked thought of leaning forward to lick the skin alongside his neck. Its muscular beauty and tanned sheen of skin were strangely fascinating.

"I cannot help it," she breathed, looking into his eyes. "We are in sore need of a few moments together…"

His breathing quickened as the awareness between them intensified. Swallowing with some difficulty, he nodded toward the men readying for the ride once again.

"We shall not be long in this noble company," he said softly, trailing his finger along her jaw, "but left alone to fend for ourselves."

She interpreted his meaning as twofold, and dared to thread her fingers into the hair waving over the back of his collar.

"I look forward to it," she whispered, relishing his closeness. His skin felt hot and moist, and the soft pant of his breath touched her cheek in a most enticing way.

His gaze switched from her lips to her eyes, and for an instant it seemed as if she had broken through his hard reserve. "Until then," he said softly, pausing as if he was torn by indecision. But before she could do or say anything further he loosened his grip on her and eased away.

Disappointed, she stared at his back as he turned and rose, though he turned again and extended his hand. She gripped his hand, clutching her bag and stepping from the bushes with him. Ignoring the column passing by she smiled up at him as he escorted her back to her mare. He had tied his stallion beneath a tree next to hers, and again helped her up. The day had grown sultry and oppressive, exhausting everyone. She tried not to stare at the front of his shirt, which clung to his muscular chest as if it had been put on wet. Suddenly longing for a cool swim, she caught his eye as they started toward the others.

"How much longer?" she asked, realizing how close she sounded to pouting. Sensing that he would not be impressed with such behavior, she added a tired sigh.

He glanced up at the sun and frowned, lifting a hand to wipe his sleeve across his brow. "Another hour," he said hoarsely. "Then be ready at a moment's notice."

She nodded, following him toward the column as they rode toward the foothills of the Dyke.

_**Stealing covert glances at him as they rode, **_she shivered at the pleasurable sensation left from their closeness in the wood. Studying his profile, she found herself mesmerized by the masculine beauty of his mouth, marveling how it had produced such soft, fleeting kisses. His arms and hands, though equally strong and firm, were however capable of tenderness as was the touch of his fingertip along the seam of her lips. Clearly he'd ignited a fire within her no one else had ever come close to kindling, and with such little effort. Their continued lack of privacy in the lull between their wedding and consummation left her feeling impatient to the point of desperation. And judging by the look in his eyes, he felt the same way. Thinking of her ladies' training at court, she decided that it had not adequately prepared her for such feelings. Perhaps it was because Jared was different, she mused, and so was she. With him she had always seemed to think and say things which applied to no one else. Even more remarkable was the fact that he seemed to be the same way, and accepted her for this. She even dared to think that he relished it.

_What is it about him? _she wondered, attempting to study him objectively as they rode. This was risky though her mare was only half a length behind his, for Artus flanked his other side and had already caught her once. If he spied her eyeing her husband again he would surely use the opportunity to tease her about it. Still, as she let her gaze drift slowly over his person, he was worth the risk. And it helped to distract her from the heat and discomfort of riding.

He rode with confident set, moving gracefully with his stallion as if they were one. In the past she' seen him speaking quietly to the animal, sometimes feeding it fruit and grooming it himself if time permitted. They seemed to share a form of communication that was unusual, for he had only to whistle softly to earn its attention and obedience. Now, riding with fluid grace they led the way to the Dyke, their strength and determination belying their tiredness. Once or twice Jared's hand had rested upon his thigh to massage away the stiffness when he assumed no one saw. In the past she had wanted to ask him concerning his recovery but thought better of it. She wondered if he might be embarrassed by its appearance, and whether that might be one of the reasons why he'd not approached her to consummate their marriage. Such a thought seemed silly, for it was she who had tended his wounds and never had been repulsed by them. If however that was the case, she realized that her behavior might be inappropriate. She surely did not wish to pressure him to consummate their union.

_Should I not have teased him? _she wondered, feeling a stab of guilt at her impatience. Yet if she was throwing herself at him prematurely, surely he would not tolerate it. Perhaps a bit of reserve and patience was in order, for when she considered the prospect of a wedding night she realized that again her training was virtually useless. More knowledge had been gleaned from her work with families and children, yet the subject of male and female coupling was again taboo. _What would it be like? _she wondered, _to become one with him? _It was true that in height he towered over her, and his strength was more than double her own. Though his gentle touch and kisses were reassuring, they did not ensure that he would be a patient and considerate lover.

"You need not fear," Artus said quietly, snapping her attention back to the present. He had fallen back from the lead to come closer, yet she shot him a warning glance despite his unusually serious expression.

"I'm not afraid," she insisted, referring to their safety in an effort to conceal the true direction of her thoughts. Nodding toward Jared, she smiled. "I have both of you to protect me."

"You know of what I refer," he insisted, holding her surprised gaze. "He's a good man, and will treat you fairly."

Hoping she was not blushing, she shrugged. "I know that well enough."

His eyes softened to warm regard and she knew she could hide nothing from him; he knew her too well. "He loves you—it's written in his expression and gesture."

She glanced toward Jared, who seemed thankfully oblivious to their conversation. "I love _him,_" she admitted to Artus.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good, Mouse," he teased, using the old nickname he'd used when they were children. "As I said, you need not fear when the time comes."

She lifted her chin. "I won't even pretend to know why you feel the need to protect me—"

"Think about it," he urged in a whisper, glancing toward Jared again. "These are hardly the circumstances for you two to—"

"Stop!" she shot back in a whisper, horrified that he would continue this line of discussion yet wondering how he would know if they had consummated their marriage or not.

"It says a lot about him," he stated, ignoring her plea, "the fact that he waits to claim you."

Too embarrassed to hear any more, she urged her mount forward and approached Jared's side. He turned to acknowledge her presence, pointing toward the line of a rise off in the distance.

"That's Offa's Dyke," he stated, dropping his hand, "the border of the Marches."

She held his gaze a moment, then nodded silently.

"We should reach it within the hour," he informed her, his eyes holding hers.

Again she nodded, praying that her blush was not too evident, though he studied her at length as if it was. "Let me know," she said quietly, daring a backward glance at Artus.

His attention was still upon her, though it shifted to Jared once. In that moment she realized that this might be the last time she would see him. For years he'd been like a brother to her, and when she considered parting from him she felt a lump in her throat.

"Aileen," Jared called gently, bringing her attention back to his. "Take care—we must pass through a wetland first."

_**The flats were shrouded with mist even at midday,**_ lending an unearthly quality to the place as they maneuvered through the maze of ghostly tree trunks submerged in knee deep water. It was apparently all that remained of the forest after a flood had come, and would significantly slow their progress toward the canyon. Scanning the clouds overhead, Jared felt the storm that threatened in the chill running up his spine. He glanced toward Aileen, who was watching him with clear expectation if not a bit of disappointment. Softening his gaze, he silently apologized for the added difficulty of the journey, noting that even Artus and his men seemed to have grown sullen and depressed. Returning his attention to the murky waters stretching between them and higher ground, he squinted ahead and saw makeshift platforms rising from the swamp, immediately sensing that they composed a new burial ground that had either not been there when he'd last traveled through here, or it had been newly erected.

"All is not as it seems," Artus said quietly, waiting for Jared's nod of agreement.

"Are your men superstitious?" he asked quietly, eyeing Aileen as her face grew pale.

"Some," Artus admitted, "but I can control them."

Jared pursed his lips. "Do that—it's the shortest way through."

He knew of many instances where people would panic in such a place, fearing that the dead roamed freely and sought vengeance upon the living. Having no patience with such beliefs, he nevertheless acknowledged the power they might wield over those inclined to entertain such thoughts. Still, he had to admit within his own spirit he felt troubled, but it was not the dead which he feared.

Lifting the reins as his horse sidestepped a submerged log, he watched Aileen drop back to follow behind him. He admired her stamina and lack of complaint despite the difficult circumstances, and vowed to make it up to her at his earliest opportunity. Thinking of the coast line and mountains which surrounded his estate, he sensed that she would enjoy long walks along the beach and the windswept beauty of the lands his mother had been blessed to acquire.

At the startling screech of a hawk he glanced up, watching it rise from its nest atop a tree and swoop overhead in circles.

"It's an omen," Otis cried out, his expression agitated, "and a bad one."

"We should hurry," Rhys said soberly, eyeing Artus with concern. "The men aren't accustomed to frequenting the haunts of the dead."

"That's enough," Artus announced to all. "It's just protecting its nest, now stay in column!"

Jared narrowed his gaze on the fowl, noting the clip in its tail wing, as well as the scrap of leather dangling from its foot. "The hawk is trained," he observed, watching it suddenly sweep off toward the opposite shore.

"Then it is no omen at all—"

"It means the owner is nearby," Jared stated, meeting Rhys's gaze. "So we should hurry."

"Who would live in such a miserable place?" Artus said, obviously unconvinced though he urged his mount faster. "Then again, maybe it belongs to the spirits."

Jared's stallion perked up its ears, shaking its head in the direction the hawk had taken. "Head to the crest!" he ordered, kneeing him into action as he waved Aileen to precede him. She did so, charging after Artus's lead as the others followed suit.

Taking the rear position, Jared withstood the shower of water which splashed up around him. "Faster!" he called to them, following at a fast pace. Already Aileen and Artus were climbing the nearest bank while the others flanked them protectively. Behind him he began to hear the distant thunder of hooves.

"Raiding party from the south!" he called out, charging after them. They rode ahead, into the dark wood as he heard whoops and whistles from behind. Grimacing when an arrow shot past him, he watched it sink into a rotted tree as he passed.

_They must not see the others,_ he decided, suddenly veering away from the direction they had taken and heading toward the middle of the swamp. The raiders splashed into the swamp behind him, and he gazed up at the burial lofts as he approached. It was his only chance, though he knew not the origin or culture of those who pursued him.

"_**Ah!" Otis shouted, nearly missing being snagged by a low hanging branch.**_ He smiled and waved to his companion before changing direction and heading into the deeper wood.

As Artus and Aileen came to Rhys's side he whirled and stopped, watching Otis ride off alone into the forest. He pointed toward the suspect.

"You were right—looks like he's deserted."

Artus frowned grimly, feeling Aileen grip his arm.

"Where is Jared?" she panted, her face pale and agitated. "He was right behind me!"

Scanning the distant swamp, Artus watched the raiding party of half a dozen men stop and circle in an attempt to look for traces of their whereabouts. Holding up his hand for silence, he saw them point toward the north section before an outcry of protests arose. From what he could discern they were debating going into the burial area to search it, but after a few moments resumed their search of the surrounding wetland.

"We must go on," he said quietly. "Jared will catch up when he is able."

"Did you see where he went?" she whispered, gazing into the mists but seeing nothing, as he had.

"If I know him, he is at this moment hiding among the dead," he said, a smile spreading across his face as he saw the men head back to wherever they originated. But when they suddenly leapt into action he suspected they saw another prey.

"Now we know where Otis went," Rhys said dryly, stating what he was thinking.

Artus nodded toward the ridge. "Let's keep moving."

Aileen stared at him in disbelief. "You plan on just _leaving_ him? What kind of escort it that?"

"The wise kind," he quipped, urging her to follow after Rhys and the others. When she did he breathed an inward sigh of relief. "Don't worry, he can take care of himself. After all, he preceded us here and knows the Marches better than any one of us."

Obviously upset, she bit her lower lip in frustration. "I hope you are right, otherwise you'll be escorting me back to search the swamp until we find him."

_c. 2009 by Christine Levitt_


	11. Chapter 11 Kirkborough

_**Chapter 11 Kirkborough**_

_**Gripping Artus's arm, Aileen stared at the lone rider emerging from the mists as he rode slowly toward them. **_The men surrounding her kept their bows aimed dead center at his chest, waiting to discern his identity. Despite this the stallion hung its head as it walked, its rider leaning forward in the saddle and favoring his left arm. Upon recognizing him she exhaled a tense breath.

"It's Jared," she confirmed, unable to look away. Her heart raced with a mixture of joy and fear at the sight of him. _What had taken him so long to catch up, as Artus had assured her he would? How badly was he injured? And where on God's good earth had he been all this time?_

"She's right," Artus agreed, signaling his men to lower their weapons. "About time," he muttered for her hearing alone.

She glanced warily at him but held her tongue. For two days they had searched for a sign of either Jared or Otis, arguing about their fates but finding no clue concerning either until only a few moments ago when they realized they were being followed. It was especially humiliating to discover that it was Jared following them, for the men had accused him of deserting her and defying Edward's plan, supposedly with the hope of returning home a truly free man. Based upon that assumption Artus had decided to return her promptly to her father, all the while insisting that Otis had nothing to do with the raiding party's attack. It was beyond her comprehension why they would view Otis in a better light than Jared, and now that he was joining them once again she was eager to see how he would handle the matter. Shifting her attention back to him, she waited impatiently for him to approach.

Despite his muddy and sodden appearance she lifted her chin with pride for having as husband such a brave and resourceful man. Despite this she could not ignore the matted down and muddy hair lying low over his brow, the makeshift bandage binding his upper arm nor his tattered and filthy clothing. Even more disturbing was the fact that he was unarmed, without bow or arrow. Whatever fate he had suffered left him wounded and without defense, still he'd managed to survive. As he drew nearer she met and held the silvery gaze pinning her, yet vaguely aware of his horse lifting and shaking its head to fling drops of muddy water all about before being reined up before them. Stopping abruptly, Jared tore his gaze from her and with a hard set to his lips studied the others in silent accusation while their own silence testified to their guilt for leaving him behind.

"Everyone accounted for?" he finally asked, his voice low and hoarse in tone.

"All but Otis," Artus replied, his expression grim.

Jared glanced back at her, his expression guarded. "You all right?"

She nodded, resisting the urge to lean forward and throw her arms around him, so relieved was she to see him. "I'm glad to see you."

"For two days we searched for both of you," Artus said incredulously. "How did you manage to escape?"

Jared pinned him with his gaze. "I rode into the burial grounds."

There was a soft murmur among the men as Artus stiffened; he held Jared's gaze but offered no excuses.

"Not one came in after me," Jared continued, "though they scouted the perimeter and waited."

"They wouldn't enter sacred ground," Rhys stated, his gaze narrowing upon Jared. "And once you did, you scared them away."

There was a momentary pause, and Aileen sensed a shift in power among them. Artus straightened, lifting his reins. "It's been a long day and we need lodging," he said, nodding toward the lights of the village. "Assuming that is a friendly enough town?"

Jared's gaze pointed in its direction and his frown deepened. "You'd be better off heading southwest to the next village," he advised, meeting Artus's scowl. "It's another hour's journey."

"We will take the risk, Jared."

"The locals hold no fondness for Edward's representatives."

"You managed it well enough, didn't you?" Rhys countered.

"I am Cymri, and therefore less of a threat," he said evenly, nodding toward Aileen. "You do as you see fit—my wife and I will continue north."

Disappointed, she held her tongue, watching the battle of wills between them. _Why can we not stop and rest? _she groaned inwardly, considering not only her own sweaty, exhausted body but Jared's as well. He looked truly spent and in pain.

"Why push yourself so hard?" Artus protested, "or Aileen, for that matter?"

Jared pursed his lips in frustration. "This village is hostile to the crown, will meet your arrival with resistance. Added to that concern is the unexplained absence of one of your men, as well as the lingering threat that his comrades might return."

"I would not assume the two absences are related," Artus warned.

"Then where _is _Otis?" Jared wanted to know.

"They must have taken him against his will."

"Granted, but why keep him all this time?" Jared proposed. "Judging by the look of them, you would have found his body floating in the swamp had he no value to them."

"Are you insinuating that he _led_ us into their trap?"

"There is no need to insinuate—"

"He may even have deserted, for all we know!"

"Before collecting his wages from Edward?"

Silence reigned as everyone studied them in mute fascination. It was obvious that they were just as comfortable arguing as they were being friends, for she could discern no sign of their losing their mutual respect.

"Otis hails from the west," Artus defended, "which places him at odds with the locals, no doubt including that raiding party."

"Alliances such as those change as unpredictably as the weather," Jared argued, absently kneading his sore leg. The gesture prompted her to realize that she knew nothing of his physical condition and she was flooded with guilt. It seemed the ultimate failure of a wife not to know such a thing, she thought. Unable to look up at him, she stared at the slow motion of his hand and swallowed against the lump in her throat. _What if he had died out there, all alone? We would have never—_

"I evaluated Otis at his induction and deemed him a trustworthy knight!" Artus hissed.

"Jared is right," Rhys drawled just above a whisper. "If he was not in league with them they would have used him for ransom or killed him by now."

Turning his glare from Rhys, Artus caught her pleading expression. _Please Artus— just take Jared's advice for once._

"My orders are to see you both safely over the Dyke," he insisted.

"And you've done that," she couldn't help saying, though she glanced at Jared to see his reaction. He glanced meaningfully at the raised dyke just to their right. _Well, at least nearly, _she refrained from stating_._

"We will be less conspicuous, traveling alone," Jared insisted.

"And what if the raiding party should return?" Artus disagreed. "Otis knew your plan—how can I leave you to fend for yourselves?"

"Were they interested in us they would have tried something by now," Jared answered.

"He probably joined them just to quit our service," Rhys offered. "He never fancied the rigors of training or discipline."

"Dividing up is suicidal," Artus insisted. "Just let us travel another hour with you—"

"That is even more risky," Jared said tiredly, shaking his head. "I know these hills well, and fear no further threat from Marcher lords."

"You are exhausted and without weapons," Artus protested, "and furthermore Aileen—"

"I wish to go on with my husband," she interrupted, offering Artus an apologetic face. "But thank you for seeing us safely here—all of you."

Artus stared at her a moment, glancing back at Jared. "You make a good match after all," he said with a sigh, handing Jared his bow and quiver. "At least take these with you."

"The fewer who know we've come, the better," Rhys said quietly, nodding to Artus's wave before turning to lead off in the direction indicated.

As they filed out Artus reached for her hand. This he lifted and kissed. "Farewell for now, Lady Aileen…"

Feeling him pull away she gripped his hand between hers. Squeezing it affectionately, she forced a smile. "I will let Father know when we've safely arrived."

He nodded and she released his hand, watching him shake Jared's firmly.

"Thank you for protecting her," Jared said quietly. "You are a good friend to us both."

"I shall miss you both," Artus answered, nodding toward her. "Take care of my little sister."

"I will," Jared agreed. "I hope you realize that I meant no offense."

"None taken," Artus answered, turning his horse. "Adieu."

"God go with you," Jared bade him, lifting a hand in farewell as he rode off to join his men.

Turning to watch them enter the wood, they stared into the deepening shadows in silence. After they could no longer be seen, Jared reached for her hand and squeezed it. Facing him, she struggled to see his face, frustrated by the fading light.

He sighed deeply and released her hand. "It's time we go," he said softly, transferring his gaze from her face to the rise of the Dyke.

Clicking his tongue, he signalled his stallion into action. They started off and she rode just behind him, lost in her thoughts. Though she had many questions for him she knew they must leave this place without arousing any suspicion. So entering the cover of the wood and switch-backing up the rise, they crossed over and descending the other side. Skirting the outlying fields which were newly cut and sweetly scented, they started their journey. She caught the scent of baking bread and roasting meat from off in the distance and heard the muffled sounds of gaiety from the tavern. Her stomach growled and Jared turned his head to look at her, but said nothing.

After some time they began to climb into the higher country, headed north and west toward the mountains. The night was beautiful, with fireflies blinking in the adjacent meadows and the stars shining far above. The moon was half full but strong in lighting the landscape, making their way a bit easier than had it been new. She had heard stories of the dangers of the night air, but never quite believed them. Not since discovering the parapet after dark, where she had met Jared long before. Thinking fondly of that night, she was startled by the sound of his voice, spoken low but above a whisper.

"I owe you an apology," he said without prelude, his voice causing her to search his dark face in the dim light.

_How I wish I could look into his eyes…_

"An apology," she repeated, too aware of the intensity of his regard. "But why?"

"For pushing you thus," he admitted, his tone grim. She saw him glance toward the darkening horizon. "Things did not proceed as I planned," he said. When she meant to ask him to what he referred, he gazed her way once again. "And I hated leaving you."

She stared at him, wishing she could see more than the silver glint in his eyes and the occasional white flash of his teeth. His words surprised and thrilled her, so much so that she was momentarily speechless.

"Aileen…are you well?"

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, now unafraid to make her own confession. "I was so afraid I wouldn't see you again," she admitted softly, watching him carefully.

He held her gaze a moment longer. "I had to be sure their interests were diverted from you."

She nodded. "I realized that, afterward…but when you were so long in coming we all became quite concerned, even Artus."

He turned his attention forward and stared off ahead. "I hid among the dead," he said quietly, causing a shudder to travel down her spine.

Unable to think of a reply and afraid to ask him about that, she waited for him to elaborate. When he did not she fell silent, sensing that he journeyed to another time and place. Had he experienced something similar during his time with the Crusade? Remembering the horrific accounts of atrocities and terrible suffering that had circulated among the knights and share with her by Artus, she recalled how upon his return Edward had said little of the experience, only that it had been necessary to go. Picturing herself at that time, she marveled that such a terrible necessity had nevertheless convinced Jared to come back to Edward and appeal the king's lenience for his own people, thus allowing their paths to cross. What if he had never gone? Would he have come to Westminster anyway? And if he had not, where would she be today?

As she followed half a length behind him she studied the strong set of his wide shoulders and ramrod straight back, longing for the day when he would share his experiences and feelings with her. Yet if he did, she felt inadequate to comfort or soften the effect of such an ordeal as that, or even his encounter in the swamp. Would he trust her with the deep secrets of his soul? And if he would not, could she accept that from him?

"Jared," she called softly, waiting for him to turn. When he did not she rode closer and reached out to touch his arm.

He turned toward her as if seeing her for the first time.

"I am glad you came back, and that you are well."

He stared at her questioningly, then nodded. "I'm afraid I am quite filthy and tired, however."

Sighing in relief, she smiled and gripped the loose tunic that had plastered to her hot skin, noting how his eyes followed the gesture with guarded interest.

"I too could use a bath and a chance to stretch my legs," she agreed, glancing toward the white bandage covering his torn sleeve. "Is your arm all right?"

He glanced down as if being reminded of its presence. "Just a scratch," he explained, meeting her gaze.

A gentle breeze caught a tendril of her hair, snatching it loose from beneath her cap. She reached up to tug it from the place where it clung to her lower lip. At the same time his gaze followed and lingered there, and she very slowly pulled it free and tucked it up under concealment. Then he looked into her eyes. Even in the darkness she could see the silver flecks in his eyes, reflected in the star and moonlight. The moment hung between them like an eternity, and then was broken by his muffled clearing of the throat as he looked ahead.

"We haven't much longer," he said quietly, bumping the heels of his boots against the horse's flanks. She did the same and they cantered along the rough trail that bordered another forest. Crossing another stream bed, they climbed higher and leveled off again.

"It will be good to have a meal," she said just loud enough for him to hear above the hoof beats. "Our last bit of food was shared at noontime."

He nodded.

She glanced down at the bag strapped to his saddle. "Have you anything left?"

He shook his head. "I finished it early this morning."

"Well then whatever we eat shall taste marvellous," she replied, pulling her collar away from the back of her neck. She felt as if her skin was streaming with perspiration. "Though I think I would prefer a bath before anything."

He glanced at her and she felt it again: the intensity of his gaze, the slight narrowing of his eyes and the furtive glances he stole when he thought she did not see. Her spirits lifted at the notion that he might be as hungry for her as she was for him, though she would never dare mention it. All thoughts of food suddenly fled beneath his quiet regard.

"You shall have to come with me," he warned softly, "into the men's bath."

She stared at him in astonishment, laughing softly at what was surely his attempt at a joke. "I thought we'd go to the women's side, where you can pretend to be my chaperone."

His gaze narrowed upon her face. "I am serious Aileen."

She choked back a laugh, covering her mouth. "Surely you aren't!"

He straightened and for a moment she thought he might laugh with her. When he did not she tried to grasp the concept of what he was telling her. The public baths were always housed in a small shack adjacent to the livery, and were used by travelers of which few were women. Was the village to which they headed bereft of a women's bath? If so, she would order a bath to be taken to their room. But then she thought about bathing in his presence and felt herself colouring a deep red.

Suddenly he veered off the road and started toward the forest, surprising her though she followed close behind. He turned to look back over his shoulder at her.

"If it makes you that uncomfortable, there are alternatives."

"Jared—"

He held up a hand but continued, entering the forest and moving far back from the road. It was too dark to see much of anything, and she feared being unhorsed from any unseen obstacle in their path. But he pushed on, slowing the pace until she saw a glimmer of light just ahead. To that he headed, stopping and sliding stiffly from his saddle. She waited until he came over and held up his hands. Placing hers upon his shoulders she let him help her down, stumbling when she stood somewhat shakily before him. Grasping his arms, she looked up into his barely visible face.

"Steady," he said softly, squeezing her waist before dropping his hands. "We can bathe here."

"Jared—"

"In fact, this is better than trying to fool anyone into thinking you're my squire."

She followed him to stand aside the stream, which was only ankle deep but rushing with clean water. Considering the alternative, she sighed in capitulation. "All right—but only if you stay over there," she said, pointing to the horses.

"I need to bathe as well," he warned softly, lifting a hand to his shirt. "And this will save time."

She pulled off her cap, feeling her hair fall down. "All right, but turn your back."

He took a step closer, pulling his arms from his tunic and tossing it toward the rocks lining the stream bed. "Why?" he whispered.

She pulled her hair forward as if to cover herself, nearly jumping when he reached out to grasp a handful of it. This he lifted, bending his head as if to examine it. She crossed her arms, trying not to stare at the glistening sheen of his chest. Swallowing hard, she forced her arms down and stood straighter, waiting for him to look her in the eye as best he could. When he did, his eyes drifted toward her lips as she moistened them with the tip of her tongue.

"Because," she choked, searching for her voice. "We are not yet husband and wife." _Why did I say that?_ she screamed at herself as soon as the words left her lips.

His eyes narrowed upon hers and he tilted his head a bit, as if to discern what strange creature stood before him. "Aren't we?" he whispered, opening his hand to let her hair drift through his fingers and fall against her chest.

Fighting for breath, she searched for the proper response. "I meant—you know we—"

"Have yet to be intimate?" he finished for her, his breath touching her brow. He lifted a hand to her chin, gently nudging it up as he gazed into her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered, reaching up to clutch his wrist. "And I feel nervous about it, though you probably wish I weren't such—"

"This is neither the time nor place," he interrupted, bending to tempt her by bringing his lips very close to hers without touching. "I agree."

She reached for him then, clutching his waist and trying not to let her heart pound at the feel of his warm skin and hard muscles. As he began to straighten she rose up on her toes and touched her lips to his, stopping him. His eyes closed as she kissed him softly, stepping closer and sliding her hands up to the backs of his shoulders. Beneath her fingertips she could feel roughened lines that stopped her. They both froze, then slowly he straightened and took a step back.

"I'll see to the horses while you wash," he said hoarsely, then turned and left her side.

Slowly exhaling her held breath she tried to calm her quivering body, so tempted had she been to throw herself at him. And she had, in a way, so strong was her attraction to him. But he had left her, making her feel foolish and immature. So much for attracting her own husband, she thought glumly as she glanced over her shoulder and began to take off her tunic just as he had. It was so hot that she decided to wash it, as well as her chemise just to feel somewhat clean again. Kneeling over the water, she bent and splashed herself, keeping her back to him and trying to hurry before he came back.

_**A quarter of an hour later Jared braved a glance in her direction, **_still feeling the softness of her lips upon his and the burn of desire her kiss had provoked. He was losing control, he realized, yet for once he welcomed the opportunity to fling aside years of pummeling his body into submission just to give in to her. She ignited a fire within him from the simplest of gesture, ranging from one bright glance of her eye or the soft huskiness of her voice to her soft fragrance and her most fleeting touch. It seemed that she was only half aware of her power over him, and it both excited and threatened her. Surely as a physician's daughter she knew the intricacies of the human body and of what it was capable, yet even in his own mind he knew that knowledge was no substitute for experience. But he trusted her with his heart, something he had not done since the death of his mother years before. She had kept his secret all through his frequent trips away, and her friendship was genuine. But now, traveling so close to her he found he wanted more. And it seemed she was at least half willing to give him more of herself as well.

Even now she tempted him, though her damp hair was concealed beneath the boy's cap and tightly braided. When she had approached him after bathing at the stream he'd noted the press of breasts beneath her wet tunic and had gruffly suggested she add a vest despite the heat of the night. To her credit she had complied while he washed himself and they were once again on their way. But the wall had again been erected between them and it was his own fault. He could have been gentler in his suggestion that she hide every aspect of her femininity, but then again a man could only endure so much. It had taken all his remaining strength to walk away from the gentle onslaught of her kiss, but he had already determined that their first time together would not be spent upon the ground or in anything less than a private room in reasonably comfortable surroundings, if they even made it to that juncture.

Suddenly she turned her head and caught him watching her. He saw her lips form a tiny bitter pout before she glanced away. "How much longer?" she croaked tiredly.

He tore his eyes from her beloved profile to glance ahead. After a few moments he could see tiny lights off in the distance. Stretching out his arm, he pointed in that direction.

"The village of Kirkborough," he quietly announced, ending all discussion.

As they rode on in silence he was left to his own thoughts, Aileen being either too irritated with him or their journey, or a combination of both. He remembered the first time he'd been sent here on Father's orders, forced to prove himself by negotiating the eviction of a cruel overlord who had let the estate of a distant relative of his father's fall into ruin by wanton living. Jared had arrived with all the necessary documents to prove his family's claim, only to have been met with scoffing and opposition due to his youth and inexperience. The overlord's influence and power had a vice like grip upon the villagers, so much so that he was denied a room at the tavern and been forced to camp out by the river. It had taken a week for him to win the trust and support of the villagers and tenants, but he had somehow managed it. When at last the writ of eviction had been signed, witnessed and the lord escorted away by the constable, he'd seen to installing the chief steward as his replacement and promptly left for home. Had he been aware of the path down which the task had taken him he might not have complied so faithfully, yet before long it seemed that he was destined to be a negotiator and diplomat whether or not he chose to be. Even Edward had seen this in him, and now that he'd been released by ransom he knew that he would never really be free from that destiny.

Now, as they passed the same spot where he had camped, he glanced back to see Aileen slouched low in the saddle, too tired to sit upright. As they approached the stables he leaned toward her, his eyes upon the open doors.

"Keep your head down," he whispered, "and leave the talking to me. If there is anything to which you object, save it until later."

She tensed but said nothing, causing him to feel cruel and insensitive. But he would explain the necessity of being exactly that when they had a moment to themselves.

Halting just inside the stable he dismounted stiffly, gripped his reins and reached for hers as he led their mounts inside and searched for a stableman. Within a few moments an elderly man came toward them with a pronounced limp, his irritation clearly written in his expression.

"It's late," he growled, scowling up at Aileen. "Where you from?"

"How much to groom, beside feeding and boarding?" Jared asked in the local accent, paying in advance when he was informed of the sum. The man glanced up curiously at Aileen, who hung her head and chose neither to move nor look up.

"'E's sick," Jared explained, causing the man to jump into action and motion for her to dismount.

"Well cum on!" the man ordered, "havn't got all night!"

Aileen slid stiffly from the saddle without his aid and wandered toward the door, leaning against it heavily. Jared handed over the reins.

"Any room to let?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the tavern.

"Nearly empty," he was told before the man sauntered off, the horses in tow.

Jared started toward her but she was already on her way toward the inn, which stood in plain view. They walked in silence to the entrance where she held back to let him pass before her. Once inside, he noted the two silent forms at the bar and nodded to the keeper, throwing down his coin as he gruffly asked for a room. The whole process took less than a few minutes, and when he finally closed the door behind them and locked it he felt sick with exhaustion.

While he tried lighting the lamp she scurried toward the far corner of the room and he heard her begin to undress. The soft thump of her hat and vest upon the chair kept him aware of her progress while he pulled off his shirt and lowered the wick. Hearing the thump of her boots upon the floor he turned and caught the alarm in her expression, for he had caught her with her tunic held across her breasts and her eyes wide. Her hair was still in the braid, and he found himself taking a step toward her. As he did she slowly lowered the tunic to reveal to the dim light the flimsy undergarment she wore. Lifting her chin, she held his gaze as he completed the distance between them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, noting the way her eyes flitted over his features but traveled no lower than his chin. "I was gruff and inconsiderate before—"

She surged toward him, lifting her arms to encircle his neck as she rose upon her toes. He caught her waist and pulled her into his arms, lowering his mouth to hers as he kissed her hungrily. Gasping with pleasure, she shoved her hands into his washed hair as he turned her away from the window. She broke free but kept hold of his hand as she bent toward the bed. Planting a knee upon the mattress, she crawled toward the other side, tugging him after her. He followed her as she turned onto her back and reached up to him. Positioning his body over hers, he lowered himself into her sweet embrace and kissed her as he'd dreamed of doing for so long.

Her arms pulled at his shoulders as he felt her legs brace his, firing his desire for her. Breaking their kiss, he turned her head in order to kiss along the side of her neck. Breathing into her ear, he sighed her name as she fumbled with the fastenings of her clothes. He smoothed a hand down her throat and over her chest, lightly settling his palm over her breast as she froze in his embrace. He kissed her lips gently and lifted his head to stare down at her.

"May I?" he whispered, studying the beautiful glow of her skin in the dim light. Her lips parted and he stared at the milky white teeth which were small and so perfectly formed.

"I need you," she whispered back, tracing her fingertips over the muscles of his chest as he slowly mimicked her gestures upon her own body. They stared into each other's eyes, and when hers drifted closed he rested his face against her chemise and tried to slow his raging desire. Then one thought occurred to him which made him slowly lift his head to look down at her. Her eyes opened as she reached up to touch his lips.

"Do you still have your monthly course?" he whispered, mentally counting the days since their wedding, his spirits sinking.

She looked momentarily confused, but then her expression changed to concern. With his eyes upon her, she nodded briefly.

"It is nearly gone," she whispered, her eyes traveling over his features. "Why?"

"You still bleed?" he panted, gently pulling his hand from between their bodies. Planting an elbow into the mattress, he knew they could not continue down this path. At least not yet.

"Why?" she croaked, her expression close to tears. Then she shook her head. "I'm sorry—I wasn't thinking—"

"Shhh," he whispered, setting a finger over her lips. Shifting to his side, he pulled her back into his arms and dug his head back into the pillows, closing his eyes.

"Jared?" she whispered, lifting her head from his shoulder to stare down at him. "Did I do some—"

"We cannot," he breathed, his hopes crushed and his body still aching for hers. When he opened his eyes again she had tears in hers, which she swiped away with a gesture of irritation.

"You don't want me—"

"How can you say that?" he groaned, pulling her back down into his arms. Tightening his grip on her, he relaxed when she rested her nose against his throat. "Of course I want you."

"Then why don't we—"

"It is against conscience," he tried to explain, wondering why he had not anticipated this before. "Have you read in the Holy Scriptures, about the unclean?"

She sighed, spreading her fingers over the sparse sprinkling of his chest hairs. "Now I remember…I'm so sorry, Jared."

He closed his eyes. "So am I…but it does not mean we cannot sleep in each other's arms."

She turned and hugged him tightly, lifting her head to kiss him tenderly. He groaned and pressed deeper into the mattress. "You tempt me too well…" he sighed.

He heard her soft laugh before she drew the blanket up over them to the waist, despite the warm night. Falling quickly to sleep, she rested against him as he felt the heavy weight of exhaustion drag him under. Within minutes his breathing slowed and matched hers, and then he knew no more.

_c. 2009 by Christine Levitt_


	12. Chapter 12 The Overlord

_**Chapter 12 The Overlord**_

The beating of pans and shouting from the yard below awoke her, and with a start she lifted her head from the pillow. Struggling to open her eyes against the bright sunlight streaming into the room she wondered where she was. Then a strong arm slid over her side and tugged her back against a warm chest, a pleasant reminder which made her smile.

Apparently they'd slept half the day in a delicious tangle of limbs despite the heat in their attic room. At his slurred protest she clutched his arm and felt him relax and settle back into rest. Lightly stroking his forearm, she resisted the urge to do the same but yielded herself to the wonderful temptation of his arms. Counting her blessings, she sighed contentedly, for it was obvious that she'd married a strong and caring man, one whom she could respect and trust. He also seemed to sense her needs, a remarkable feat considering the fact that she seldom knew them herself. Jared's discernment was uncanny, and whenever thoughts of an uncertain future threatened to unsettle her he always seemed to know what to do. And finally there was the way that he made her feel.

Lying in his arms she felt safe and protected, small yet more powerful than she'd ever felt before. From the top of her head to the tip of her toes brushing his ankles she was keenly aware of felt his touch. The thrill of awareness had awakened with her first glimpse into his marvelous eyes, and had grown stronger with each encounter they'd shared. It was exciting and compelling, and best of all she knew he felt it as well. Only hours before they had come as close to making love as they'd ever been, yet remained apart due to her lingering monthly flux. But it had been difficult for him, she knew, and that knowledge caused her to feel strangely powerful. To have had that effect upon a man who was so self controlled and strong was a heady experience, one which she longed to test further. So with that thought she lifted her hand from his forearm and slid it like a breath over the thin sheet to the place where his leg pressed against her own beneath its cover. Gently framing the hard muscle of his thigh, she held her breath as he murmured, nestling his head beneath his chin in response. She froze in position, listening to the soft language of his native tongue that whispered over his lips.

_Was he dreaming?_ she wondered, slowly returning her hand to his arm and lifting it as he stirred again to settle upon his back. Turning onto her hip to face him, she slid one hand beneath his pillow and watched his hand fall limply to the mattress. He stilled and his breathing evened out again, allowing her the freedom to do as she pleased. Plumping her pillow beneath her head, she studied his face in the strong light, admiring the hard lines of its masculine beauty. His hair fell across his temple, so dark it was nearly black. She counted two silver hairs hidden in its waves, thinking them premature even in a man who had suffered the adversity he had. His lashes were full and fanned dark against his high cheekbones, and the dark stubble of the lower part of his face only added to his charm. But when she focused upon his mouth a tiny thrill of pleasure coursed through her belly as she remembered what those lips were capable of. And she wanted more.

Moving her eyes down over the strong column of his neck she realized her benefit in the fact that he slept without a nightshirt. Unless of course the weather was cold, she mused as her eyes traveled slowly over the well muscled span of his chest. The sprinkling of dark hair centered there was a curiosity she found puzzling, for his arms from the elbows downward seemed to have more hair. Continuing her study, she slid her gaze across his shoulders, over the bulging strength of his upper arms and down over his ribs to his abdomen. As she took note of the strength of his belly muscles, she noted a scar adjacent to the lowest rib on the side nearest her.

_What had caused that?_ she wondered with a shudder, glancing up at his relaxed features. He slept on, completely unaware of her interested study. Thus, continuing her exploration, she noted the place where the sheet rode low around his waist, again reaching out to touch the leg that she had helped tend back in Father's quarters. Pausing while she stared at the exact spot beneath which lay the flesh she remembered sewing together, she wondered how it fared. It did not escape her notice that from time to time he absently massaged it, and she longed to examine its current condition. Biting her lower lip, she stretched out her fingertips and touched the sheet over his leg, staring at it in determination.

Suddenly his hand shot out and captured hers. With a gasp of surprise she glanced up and found his eyes upon her. He was staring at her intently, apparently wide awake though he'd not given any signs of being disturbed. She watched his green-grey eyes darken and turn stormy, the shards of black and silver appearing from hiding. She noted how his lips were parted and became aware of his breath quickening in response. She moistened her upper lip with the tip of her tongue, a gesture which seemed to capture his complete attention.

Then he moved quickly, shifting his body over hers to pin her against the crackling mattress. He pressed against her, balanced on his forearms with his face very close to hers. In that moment her assumed powers over him fled beneath his superior strength and the force of his compelling gaze. She admitted to herself that she was weak and no match for him. As his eyes traveled slowly over her features she felt his grip upon her wrists loosen, allowing her to slide her arms back down to shoulder height. She could feel his body harden and change against hers, and basking in the wondrous excitement of his gaze her own seemed to blossom and flourish, quickening her heart beat in response.

"What was it that so provoked your curiosity?" he asked thickly, his tumultuous eyes reminding her of an ocean storm.

Stretching her feet along his insteps, she swallowed against her own dry throat. "I wondered about your leg," she admitted, feeling a molten river of excitement course through her.

He narrowed his gaze before glancing down at her lips. She felt his fingers slide and interlace with hers as he tilted his head and averted his gaze to her mouth. After a moment she wondered if perhaps he'd lost his train of thought, so intense was his regard. Encouraged, she lifted her hands to his shoulders, gently caressing the warm skin encompassing them. Looking up he met her gaze, his lips curling toward a smile. His eyes warmed to a fiery glow, and she found herself unable to do or say anything.

"Do you wonder about anything else?" he whispered, eyes locked to hers.

"I wonder what it feels like," she whispered, glancing down at the place where his chest pressed against hers. The thin chemise she wore hid very little, and though she felt more naked than if she'd been wearing nothing at all.

"What?" he breathed, his attention pulled again to her lips.

"The way your body changes," she dared to admit, "seems…painful."

He closed his eyes for a moment, expelling a tense breath before he opened them to her gaze. Then he glanced meaningfully toward the low scoop of her neckline. "I too wonder if you feel the same."

"I'm not afraid, Jared," she admitted, watching his eyes fire with longing, "to truly become your wife."

His brow furrowed before he dipped his head, sealing his lips against hers. It was a firm, possessive and stirring kiss and she moaned in thanksgiving, twining her arms around his neck to pull him closer. The kiss grew hot and demanding, then teasing. She answered its silent questioning, wishing it would go on forever. But he lifted his head and smiled.

"Good."

With that he shifted off her to settle upon his back with his hands beneath his head. He closed his eyes and sighed in satisfaction. She stared at him in momentary disbelief, then leaned upon his chest to stare at his lingering smile.

"'Good'?" she repeated, her voice husky with desire. "Is that all you have to say?"

He opened his eyes. "I am greatly relieved," he announced.

"Are you," she stated, pushing back a tendril of hair that spilled across her face. "Is that all you are going to do," she asked while he reached up to tuck it behind her ear, "lie there with that knowing smile upon your face?"

He frowned, dropping his hand to the mattress. "What else can I do?"

She huffed in annoyance as she rose up, her eyes drawn to his chest. "It is hardly my fault that we cannot do more."

"Go ahead," he interrupted, "look all you wish, milady—though if I remember correctly you've seen it before."

"Things were different when you were my patient," she shot back, smiling impishly at him as she reached toward the sheet covering his lower body. "But now that you've given permission—" she declared, flinging it aside and staring at the long scar bisecting his leg. It had faded from red to a puckered white but was still nasty in appearance. She glanced up, her expression softening. "Oh Jared…"

He looked offended. "Is that all that interests you—my scar?"

She held his gaze a moment, glancing toward his marvelously chiseled body and back. Hiding a tiny smile, she planted a hand upon his chest. "No," she admitted, "it is not all!"

A smile played about his lips once again. "Good—then perhaps you might allow me the same privilege?"

She bit her lower lip, holding his gaze. "I suppose I must, if you insist," she said primly.

He tilted his head back and laughed, a deep rumble of a sound that annoyed her without reason.

"'If I insist'!" he repeated, choking back a laugh. "You look like a little old lady when you say it in that manner."

She punched his shoulder. "I am a little old lady!" she admitted as he caught her fist and lifted it to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

"By whose standards?" he chuckled.

"The court's standards, which indicate a girl must be at the very least engaged by the age of twelve!"

"That is ridiculous," he said dismissively. "What man wants to marry a child?"

"Then you don't think me too old?" she couldn't help asking. The question had always hid there between them, waiting to be asked.

"Hardly—I'd have thought you would see me in that light."

"You? Old?" she marveled, eyeing his healthy and muscular body. "I would say you are a man, though, and not a boy."

"That is comforting to someone of my advanced years," he choked, his eyes lighting with admiration. "But regarding the former question, I had hoped for a more enthusiastic answer, if not whole hearted permission."

"I am sorry to have disappointed you," she pouted, "but I do wonder for what purpose since you've forbidden anything but looking."

"Looking is only the beginning," he answered, pulling her back into his arms. Turning to his side with her back against his chest, he sighed when once they were settled. "It is hardly my decision either, and certainly not my will."

She trailed a finger over his arm. "Nor mine."

He lifted his head, guiding her face close for a tender kiss. It was an altogether different kiss, one filled with longing but restraint.

"Yet we barely know each other in this way," he said, holding her gaze. "Perhaps we might enjoy the slow introduction?"

She cupped his whiskered cheek in her palm. "A grand idea, Sir Knight, but do we have the time? Should we not be going?"

He nodded, glancing toward the window. As she sat up and stretched lazily she was aware of his gaze following her. When he made no move to rise she took delight in shimmying toward the edge of the bed and slowly pulling on her boy's clothing. Eventually she heard a soft groan followed by the rustle of the mattress. Turning to glance back over one shoulder, she eyed him hungrily as he pulled on and fastened his chausses. Their eyes met and he smiled devilishly, bowing his head in acknowledgement. Standing to braid her hair she watched him pull on a shirt and ready his belongings. At her wistful sigh the intimacy of their time together faded and they headed toward the door.

"Don your cap, lad," he ordered softly, hoisting his bag to his shoulder as he watched her fasten hers. "We'll have a bite to eat before collecting the horses."

She nodded, reminding herself to button her vest as he preceded her out into the hall. Keeping her head down, she followed toward the stairs which led to the dining room.

_**At the sound of pounding boots she pulled her gaze from her eggs,**_ glancing covertly at the heavyset man stumbling down the stairs. Keeping her chin down and eyes shielded by her cap, she winced at his loud bellow for food. As he shuffled into the dining room she stabbed her potatoes with a fork and leaned heavily on the arm she'd laid along the edge of the table, following Jared's example by pretending to be anything but the gentlemanly knight he was. The man pulled out a chair three tables away and she cringed inwardly, stuffing her food more rapidly into her mouth and trying to ignore him. _Please, dear Lord—don't let him approach me!_

Jared drained his mug as their fellow guest pounded his table for service. A young girl appeared and he barked out his order, glancing in their direction. Two other guests came down the stairs, whom he greeted with a grunt as they seated themselves at the table between them. Jared rose to his feet to pull out a handful of coins, dropping them onto the table as he picked up his bag. Aware of the man's scrutiny she shuffled in his wake toward the door, keeping her head down. But to her horror a voice called out and she heard the scrape of the man's chair as he got up.

"You there!" he called as Jared paused and looked over his shoulder. As he turned back the man came started toward them. "I said _you_!"

Aileen shot another glance backward, noting his scowl as he started to intercept the path to the door. Jared's steps slowed as he pushed her gently past.

"Meet me at the stables," he ordered gruffly, releasing her to depart. Her stomach knotted in fear as the man called out.

"Don't I know ye?" he bellowed, and Aileen quickened her pace out of the inn.

"What is it?" she heard her husband's voice scowl.

"Name's Chadwick," the man growled, "and don't pretend we've not met!"

Telling herself that Jared knew how to take care of himself, she rushed toward the stables, eager to ready their horses for what would hopefully be a hasty departure. _Someone had recognized him!_ Praying for his safety she neared the stables and remembered that Jared had already paid in advance, which was good because she had no currency. Making a mental note to right that wrong she nodded to the stable boy and led him to their animals.

_**Jared stood on alert, praying for wisdom **_as Chadwick approached him. He was the only one who could have recognized him, and he'd been wrong to assume the man had long since left. He remembered relieving Chadwick of his position as overlord, setting in his place Father's steward in order to manage the family properties in this realm. Now, standing his ground and praying that Aileen would ride on without him, he nevertheless feared that she would not, in which case he might be helpless to protect her.

"So you've remained," he answered, hoping to calm the man's legendary temper. "Did you bring no appeal forward, then?"

Chadwick stopped one pace away and snorted. Behind them the server announced the arrival of his food, to which announcement he only waved dismissively. "Little chance of that happening, thanks to you!"

Jared regarded him without expression. "Then you've found no other lodgings—"

"How could I?" Chadwick railed, spreading his arms wide. "Strange, but you don't seem delighted by my misery ap-Ryce"

At the use of his surname Jared noted the fixed attention of the others, as well as the stance of the innkeeper where he stood at the counter holding a knife. Upon meeting his gaze, he nodded toward the door in a silent plea that they take their argument outside.

"This is a private matter," he suggested to Chadwick, turning toward the door.

"I got no secrets from anyone!" Chadwick disagreed. "Let them all know how your family cheats others from their rightful place!"

Jared pursed his lips. "You forfeited that place, and had other holdings to which to remove yourself—"

"Not as fair as these!" Chadwick pouted. "So I have _you _to thank for my ruin—you and your father."

"If you could manage other holdings it would bode well for reconsideration," Jared advised soberly.

"But I like it _here—_my tenants were content enough, like that little serf you brought with you."

Not liking his reference to Aileen, Jared leaned closer. "That has nothing to do with this discussion," he warned.

Chadwick smiled gleefully. "And an English serf, no doubt—we've all heard what you've been doing down in the Marches…"

"I no longer am in that position—"

To his surprise, Chadwick seemed to consider this. "Why not? The king get sick of dealin' with the likes of you?"

"I don't want no trouble, Chad," the innkeeper warned. "Take your argument outside!"

Instead he reached beneath his coat and pulled his own knife, holding it menacingly toward Jared. "I just need to teach him a lesson—"

Reaching for a chair, Jared ducked just as he swung. "I don't want a fight," he urged, holding up his hand. But Chadwick swung again, though somewhat clumsily. Using the chair to block his jabs, Jared decided things had gone far enough.

Within seconds Chadwick found himself sprawled upon the floor, his head poking through the seat of the chair. With a dazed curse he struggled to get up while Jared bolted for the door. Reaching out to grasp the fire poker at his side, Chadwick smiled with evil intent.

As he ran outside and headed toward the stables he saw Aileen mounted, his horse's reins grasped in her hands. Her eyes widened at the sight of him as he waved and shouted "Go!"

With curses spewing from his mouth Chadwick ran out onto the porch while Aileen started off, handed him the reins. Reaching for the pommel he found the stirrup and began to mount, swinging his stiff leg over as they fled the village. Chadwick ran after them, the poker raised over his head as he vowed revenge. Those witnessing their departure cried out after Chadwick, pleading with him to desist. Settling onto his stallion, Jared noted how many of them stared in silence as he passed by. He was gaining on Aileen as they exited the confines of the village, and she risked a backward glance at him.

"Who is _that_?" she shouted over the gallop of hooves.

"Not important!" he shouted, taking the lead and guiding her off the main road. "He will not follow," he panted.

She threw him a doubtful look. "Are you all right?"

"Fine—you did well to ready the horses, but next time leave without me."

"You expect me to leave you behind without a horse?" she screeched, shaking her head. "How do you know that man, Jared?"

"A previous trip, long ago!"

"Why does he still wish to kill you?"

He glanced over at her with a smirk. "He just wanted to express his frustration."

She stared at him in disbelief. "He seemed seriously intent on taking your life!"

"Things are not always what they seem—now ride!"

_**Within half an hour they crossed the border, **_finding the air noticeably cooler as they climbed higher in altitude. Stopping to rest by a stream that bisected the forest, they watered the horses and let them graze. Sitting beneath the shade of a pine they ate trencher bread and cheese, and he studied her expression in silence. She sat across from him, knees drawn up to her chin and arms wrapped around them. Bereft of her cap, her hair glistened damp in the heat. She'd become more withdrawn since they left the village, and he knew she waited for an explanation for Chadwick's behavior. Though he preferred the past to remain where it belonged, he leaned his head back against the trunk and rested his gaze upon her.

"You are very quiet, wife," he said teasingly, frowning when she did not look up at him.

"That man seems to have carried a grudge against you for quite some time," she stated, her gaze intent upon tightening her braid. "What did you say his name was?"

"I didn't say," he answered, waiting for her glorious eyes to meet his. Her lips were deep red, her cheeks pinked by the heat and he remembered their time at the inn with a sense of frustration. He now craved her presence, and knew that it had much to do with their unfulfilled marriage. So when she flung aside her braid and lifted her chin, he saw her own frustration. As her gaze pinned him the silence lengthened between them.

"It's Chadwick," he sighed, flinging away the pine needle he used to pick his teeth. "And his anger is toward my father, not me."

She shifted against the hard packed ground. "Is that so," she sighed, glancing up at the blazing sun. "He seemed intent upon _you_ as his target."

He spread his hands wide, planting them at his sides. "Though I would have preferred him never laying eyes upon you, I believe your disguise worked."

"And if it did not?"

He chose not to consider the consequences. "Then there is the risk that he will spread the word of return."

She stretched stiffly and reached for her bag. "Then perhaps we should be going."

He watched her get up and lift her arms to pin up her hair. "Now who is being the cautious one?"

She wrinkled her nose in what he now considered an endearing gesture. "You were right," she sighed, "it doesn't hurt to be cautious."

He reached for his bag and started to get up. "I don't wish to be right."

Coming to stand before her, he picked a piece of straw from her hair, holding her surprised gaze.

"You assumed he'd moved away?" she reasoned, her eyes following his hand as he swiped the hair from his temple.

"Yes, otherwise I never would have brought you near the place."

She looked troubled. "But where else might we have gone for rest and food?"

He nodded toward the northern plateau. "There are other villages," he sighed, walking with her toward the horses. "Yet no matter where we travel it, will be dangerous."

"Until we shall reach your own lands," she supplied.

He bent to pick up her mare's bridle. "There it shall be even more dangerous."

"Because of your family's betrayal?"

"That as well as other reasons."

"Your countrymen are at war," she breathed, patting her mare as she pranced up to them.

"I would not describe it as all out war," he corrected, setting the bridle to her mare and whistling to his stallion.

"If you are trying to frighten me, you are succeeding," she said tightly.

He swung up her saddle, glancing down at her. "Edward has people who will be looking out for us," he informed her, hoping to assuage her fears.

She looked immediately relieved. "I knew you were too important for him to let you leave without some form of protection."

He handed her the reins. "I do have friends as well," he said dryly, hoisting up his own saddle. "They will be even more diligent in their efforts, so you needn't fear."

"I'm glad of it," she sighed, surprising him by climbing capably up into her saddle. "With all that protection, we may have a chance at survival."

He turned to saddle his horse, swinging up and taking the reins. "We shall be fine," he assured her, but did not mention the hours he spent praying about the matter.

They started toward the dusty road, and he judged the remaining time another three hours. His leg ached and his back was stiff, but when he glanced at her she smiled impishly before urging her faster and leaving him in a cloud of dust.


	13. Chapter 13 The Mists of Cleyddnan

_**Chapter 13 The Mists of Cleyddnan**_

_**Aileen glanced back at the way they'd come, shivering with the chill.**_ Having crossed the pass and leaving behind snow covered peaks glistening in the sun they now descended into the cooling twilight. Wondering when he planned to stop for the night, she knew it must surely be to camp in the wood, for not since leaving the village that midday had they seen any signs of civilization. She felt dizzy with fatigue and clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering, so great had been the change in temperature. Even Jared, she noted, leaned forward with his forearm resting upon the pommel as he stared off into the distance. She studied his profile, wondering what he was thinking. They had little to say most of the day, concentrating upon the arduous climbs and perilous descents. Yet she sensed that a change had occurred in him, one she could not quite understand.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts he turned and met her gaze, but neither smiled nor spoke an encouraging word. Instead he gazed up at the gathering mists and sighed tiredly. She opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, for though she was unaccustomed to such hard travel she did not want to complain or grumble about their circumstances. She remembered the few short hikes Artus upon which had taken her when they were younger, but nothing could have prepared her for this. Besides, Jared was a seasoned knight and although she admired and respected him she could not help but long for the more lighthearted aspect of his character to show itself. But as they journeyed onward toward his ancestral lands he seemed to change, becoming brooding and taciturn as if the land haunted him with dark memories of the past. Particularly since they had begun this descent.

It was evident that he knew the route well, though she sensed he'd not journeyed here for some time. With keen gaze he pierced the fog and mists, guiding them along an unseen trail he'd no doubt committed to memory. Had she been leading the way they would have been lost long before, considering all the turns and forks through which they'd maneuvered. But Jared seemed to sense the way, as if he had become one with the land. All this caused her some anxiety when she considered how she might adapt to such a place. And once they arrived at his lands, how would she be received, being of Saxon descent? Would he face further rejection and alienation, bringing her along as his wife?

"There's a cave not far ahead," she heard him call before he turned his head when she did not respond. His gaze narrowed upon hers. "We stop there for the night."

She nodded as his steely gaze swept over her. Then he turned his attention forward once again.

_What changes you in this place? _she wondered, her own mood darkening. By now the mists curled through the trees of the dark forest like ghostly fingers beckoning to them. A shudder passed over her as a sense of foreboding rose up within her. She felt as if they were being watched, and gripped her reins tighter.

Just then a shower of rain opened over their heads, and she glanced up at the darkening sky. Black clouds scudded quickly among the hills and trees, and a distant rumble of thunder caused her stomach to sink. Wet clothing would only make her feel colder and even more miserable. They were entering the deeper wood, making her feel as if the dark sentinel trees were closing in around them. The rain pelted the ground and leaves, swallowing them up in its stifling folds. Leaning to one side, she stared past Jared's left shoulder, her eyes searching the thickening mists for any sign of a cave. But all she could see were trees and large boulders rising up out of the earth.

Still they rode on, their clothing growing damp and making her shiver. Thankful for her cap, she slouched low with her mood growing more foul by the moment. Why did he mention the cave, if it was clearly some distance away? The night darkened and her stomach growled loudly, though she curled her hand around it as she fought exhaustion and drowsiness. She closed her eyes, remembering the heat and comfort of their attic room, and smiled at the pleasant memories of lying in her husband's arms. Without being fully aware of it her chin dropped onto her chest as she fought to keep her eyes open. Perhaps once they were settled in the cave they could lie close and share their warmth.

After some time her foot fell and catching herself from swaying sideways she dragged her head up. Struggling to keep her eyes open she realized that she was alone. Hearing a faint whinny off in the distance, she tensed and her drowsiness fled. Searching the mists surrounding her, she saw nothing. _Where is Jared?_

"Jared!" she whispered, causing her mare to bob her head, as if insisting she did not know. With a pounding heart she leaned forward, searching the foggy wood before her. Then she slowed her mare to a stop and listened intently for any sound of his presence.

It was then that she heard the unmistakable scrape of metal. Turning her head toward the sound, she studied the dense brush and rocks ahead, patting her mare to soothe her. It was only the day before that Jared had told her what to do should they encounter trouble along the way. He had insisted that she hide, but now her mind screamed to go in search of him in case he might have met with some misfortune. Hearing the clatter of metal she reconsidered the wisdom of hiding, for despite her disguise she was a woman all alone in the wood. Another whinny ahead drew her attention to a different section of the wood where she caught sight of him. He was closer than she'd imagined, and when she realized his predicament she covered her mouth to keep from gasping in fear.

He stood immobile, facing a darkly clad figure who was seated upon a white horse. She watched in fear as the man slowly dismounted and approached him, and then Jared slowly bent and pulled something from his boot. The flash of metal issued from his hand and she gasped behind her upraised hand. _He carries a knife in his boot? _

With her heart pounding she watched as other riders emerged from the surrounding mists, and there were at least a dozen of them. Jared lowered his arm just as the man lunged toward him, knocking him to the ground. She watched in fascinated horror as they fought for the audience, and it occurred to her that men had truly strange methods of proving their convictions. _Was this a contest of some sort? _she wondered, breathing a sigh of relief when Jared turned and pinned the man down on his back. He knelt over the stranger, one knee at his side as a burst of applause erupted from the stillness of the evening. Jared released him and got up, and without thinking she urged her mare toward him.

As she approached the applause began to fade, and when Jared turned to look at her she swallowed her fears and lifted her chin. Keenly aware of many pairs of eyes upon her, she rode toward them, entering the circle when a few of the riders moved aside to allow her entrance. Riding slowly to his side she halted, her eyes upon his. He did not look pleased.

With an ominous frown he turned to face his opponent. Stiffening her back she slid from the saddle, took two steps toward him and stood by his side, head bowed. Murmurs of surprise passed among them, and when the leader came closer she was too afraid to look up at him. The horses stomped and snorted, as if eager to be on their way. Then she heard a voice which sent chills down her spine.

"Well, well, well," it sneered, causing her to lift her chin only enough to look out from under the brim of her cap. "What have we here, Jared? Your squire given by the mighty King Edward? If I'm not mistaken, he's rather scrawny!"

Soft guffaws and laughs erupted from the men, and though she longed to look up at Jared she was too afraid to move. One downward glance at the hand which hung nearest her told her that he'd clenched his fist. Comforting herself with the fact that they seemed to believe she was a boy, she took another step closer to Jared as the leader edged closer. Her arm touched his as the boots halted before them.

"Tell me Jared," he sneered, "now that you are hard pressed to deny the rumours about your fondness for boys, why not just admit they are true?"

She felt him tense even more as snorts of laughter traveled along the circle. She had heard similar rumours while at court, wondering why anyone would believe them of Jared. But how could he respond and still keep her identity a secret?

"Must have started while he was at university," the leader said with a click of his tongue.

"I think it was long before!" someone mocked.

She clenched her teeth to keep from protesting, praying fervently in her mind.

"It would explain many things!" another called.

"Let's have a better look at this lad," the leader mused, moving closer.

"Yea, let's see him—"

"No one touches her!" Jared shouted, his hand snaking out to catch her arm. He guided her behind his back and stood even taller. She gripped his hauberk to keep from stumbling, her hand clenching the fabric like a lifeline.

Silence reigned a moment, then the murmuring started again.

"'Her'?" the leader crowed, his voice terrible.

"Yes _her!_" Jared nearly shouted. This time he guided her to his side and reached out to snatch off her cap. She gasped in surprise as her hair spilled from hiding, falling in an untidy braid past her waist.

"My _wife!_" he announced threateningly, his hand gripping her arm like a vice.

There were gasps of surprise as the men muttered in protest among themselves. At this she dared to look the man in the eye, and shuddered when she did. His face was jagged with scars, his eyes black as soot. He stepped very close to Jared and pointed a finger into his chest.

"You lie!" he accused, his voice hoarse. "You would not marry, not for _anyone_!" he hissed, looking at her in obvious hatred.

Jared curled his arm protectively around her shoulders, drawing her close. She gripped his waist, holding onto him as they both stared at the man before them. "Keep your distance—"

"Ah, a distinct threat!" he gasped, his face breaking into an evil smile. "By your protectiveness one might believe it to be true."

"It is the truth."

"Could it be that ap-Ryce has finally found the _love of his life_?" he sneered, looking dismissively at her as a mocking laughter erupted from his men.

She tightened her arms around Jared. _Please, dear God—don't let them harm us!_

She felt his hands upon her arms, urging her away. He reached instead for her hand, eyed the leader meaningfully then slowly turned away. She glanced up at him, noting the set expression of determination upon his face. He led her toward the place in the circle where she had entered, and they urged their mounts aside. Miraculously they were allowed to walk away, meeting Jared's horse who came out of the fog at his whistle. He reached out to catch the reins and squeezed her hand. She reached for her reins but he framed her waist with his hands and looked into her eyes. Without a word he lifted her to his own saddle, retrieving her mare's reins in order to tie them to the back of his saddle. Then he climbed up behind her, slid his arms around her sides and took his reins.

"Let's go," he commanded softly, and they were off back toward the trail, her mare following.

"Where do you think you are going?" someone protested.

"Home," he called back without turning his head.

"You cannot just let them leave!" she heard a chorus of protests.

"I can, and I will," the leader announced as they passed. Daring a sideways glance at him, she cringed when he looked into her eyes.

"Then what of the past?" someone demanded, clearly objecting his decision.

"He has just settled it," he declared, laughing in delighted mockery as he pointed toward Jared. "He's settled it!" he cheered, his voice drowned by the others who joined in triumph.

Glancing up at Jared, she noted his stern expression as he stared ahead. Before long they slipped into the cover of the heavier mists, riding close to the precipice. Below she could see only dark shadows, fearing they might stumble and fall. As if knowing the direction of her thoughts he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her into his embrace. She felt a mixture of embarrassment and relief at the contact of their bodies, telling herself instead to relax and be thankful they were safe.

"Who were those men?" she whispered.

"The locals."

"Who _was_ he—another enemy from your past?"

He pursed his lips but did not answer.

"Did you fight together, in the Crusades?"

He glanced down at her. "Hardly—why would you think that?"

"He has _scars_."

He looked forward again. "So have I."

"But they are quite arresting—"

"Most scars are."

"Not yours."

He glanced back down at her. "You haven't seen them."

"I have touched them.

He shook his head dismissively. "Scars are scars."

"His indicate he faced his battles directly," she dared to comment. "Yours indicate betrayal."

"Think whatever you must."

"Why not just tell me, Jared? Why all the mystery, when I'm your wife!"

He glanced sternly down at her. "I was captured in Jerusalem. The scars are a token of my nights of torture."

She clamped her lips together, staring up at his impassive expression. "Thank you for telling me," she said after a moment.

He nodded, veering suddenly off the trail and into the wood. "And if you must know, that man is a cousin."

She gripped his waist even tighter. "That man is a _relative_ of yours?"

After a moment he looked down at her, his lips hinting at a smile. "A distant relative, Aileen—

one who apparently moved since we last met."

She remembered the fate his own brothers had inflicted upon him, doubting if he had any relatives who were civil. If his family treated him thus, how would they treat her?"

"We are here," he announced, guiding his stallion toward a large outcrop of rock and tumbled boulders the size of a wagon. Coming to at halt he carefully disengaged himself and slid from the saddle, holding out his hands to help her dismount. She bent to place her hands upon his shoulders and let him swing her down. When her feet touched the ground she looked up at him with a smile.

"I am so tired," she sighed as he released her and tethered the horses. She helped him unfasten the straps and gathered brush to shield the animals. Following him around the rock to the back of an enclosure of boulders, she climbed after him until they bent low inside the mouth of the cave.

"Wait here while I get the saddles," he ordered, nodding behind them. "Maybe you can spread some boughs upon which we might lie."

She nodded, and by the time he'd returned she had made a bed of blankets and evergreens. Drawing their cloaks around them they nestled together back to chest and fell quickly to sleep.

_**The next morning dawned even cooler, **_and they arose and moved quickly in order to stay warm, packing up their things without much conversation. They descended to a neglected trail which soon began to climb again, and once they reached a ridge they could see far off into the mountains beyond. The day grew warmer until noontime, changing dramatically and necessitating that they stop more frequently to water the horses. Once the entered the forest, however, the coolness was refreshing. The sweet scent of pine hung heavily in the air; she thought she had never smelled anything so intoxicating.

After what seemed like hours of climbing, they began to hear the sound of water off in the distance. She remembered him mentioning a crossing and began to tense. Telling herself that it was just a mountain brook or stream, she felt her stomach flutter as the sound of it grew louder as they drew near. When she saw a shimmer of light dancing upon its surface she realized that it as not a stream, but a river thundering with power and force. As he guided them toward the edge of the bank he stopped to lean over his pommel and survey its dimensions. She swallowed, praying that he would not make her cross.

"Stay here," he ordered, glancing at her as she tore her gaze from the water to stare mutely at him. "I will ride upstream and look for an easier cross," he explained.

She lifted her reins in both hands. "I will go with you."

He shook his head. "It's not necessary, and I won't be long. Rest, Aileen…you'll be safe here."

She looked around nervously. She didn't want him to leave her, not here by the water.

"You look exhausted."

She could not rest, she told him silently as he rode ahead. By the time he disappeared around the bend she felt herself beginning to panic.

Staring at the water, she heard nothing but its thunderous assault. Moments stretched into what seemed like hours when she was startled by his touch upon her arm. He looked surprised that she was still mounted, his expression conveying his suspicion that something was wrong. _But how can I tell him?_

"There is a shorter cross, just ahead," he said without further elaboration. "Let's go."

She looked up and nodded briefly.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

They found the spot he had spoken of, but the water was wilder with currents even though it was not as great an expanse. Startled when a circle of rope flew over her head and settled around her shoulders, she glared at him and shoved it down. He tugged it and it pulled snugly around her, serving to only frighten her more.

"Just hold on to the pommel," he advised soberly, his eyes holding hers. "If we get separated, the rope will bind us. You might want to remove your boots, just to preserve them."

Swallowing hard, she nodded and forced a smile, bending to pull them off as he did the same. _Do not look at the water._

"It must have become swollen from the rains and melting snow from the peaks," he stated.

"Is there no other way?" she croaked, having judged the depth greater here than below, where the water spread wider.

"I'm afraid not," he replied, nodding toward the water. "There is no need to fear—we shall be over quickly."

Without another word he led them toward the stream, descending the bank and starting in. Connected by the rope she followed in his wake, staring at his broad shoulders as they moved to guide the stallion through the currents. She swallowed with difficulty when she felt the water touch her feet. When his horse stumbled sideways her heart began to pound.

_What if anything were to happen to him? _she thought wildly. _I'd never be able to help him!_

Her mare whinnied at mid point, sensing her fear. Jared did not look around, for he was concentrating upon maintaining his own balance. When she felt her mare lurch she shouted his name. He turned suddenly while the stallion forged ahead. Struggling to control her mare, she stared down at the water sliding around her calves.

"You're doing fine," he reassured her, his voice nearly a shout against the roar of the waters. "Speak gently to her—she senses your fear."

And in that moment her mare whinnied and stumbled, falling into the water. Aileen screamed in horror, caught by the strong current that fought to tear her free. She heard Jared shouting her name as she kicked against the loose rocks at the bottom of the river, which she could only reach by stretching her legs and toes downward. She went under the surface and swallowed water, still gripping the edge of the pommel. Then miraculously her mare rose up and stood, dragging her up with her. She choked for breath as Jared caught her arm, snapping it beneath his arm as he scooped her up into his arms. Clinging to his neck she let go of the reins, not knowing that her horse was already mounting the bank and heading for land. She choked hysterically, unable to catch her breath as he carried her to the shallow water and bent to set her down.

When she found her footing she shoved him away and stalked over the loose stones toward her horse, ignoring the plea in his voice when he called after her. Once she stood next to her mare she bent over, still choking with fear and trying to catch her breath. Not wanting him to know her weakness she straightened and snagged the reins of her mare, leading her off into the woods. Jared called for her to wait, but she ignored him. The next time he called her his voice belied his humor, and she turned to glare at him. He was smiling and shaking his head in bewilderment. This caused something deep within her to break.

"What is so funny?" she croaked.

He sobered instantly. "Nothing," he answered, guiding his horse up the bank toward her.

"How could you make us cross there!" she yelled, stamping her sodden boot. "We almost drowned!"

"We did fine," he defended, extending his arm. "You did it!"

"You left me behind—and what if your horse had fallen? How could I have ever hoped to help you?"

"Nothing happened, Aileen—"

"We are completely _alone_ out here, right in the middle of God knows where!"

"I know where we are."

"What if we encounter thieves, or a wild animal—what if one of us becomes sick, or is hurt—"

"We will manage, together and with God's help."

Outraged by his calm demeanor, she tried to control her anger and gazed wildly about them, hating the vast and rugged landscape which seemed to mock them.

"Aileen—"

"I can't breathe in this place!" she croaked, trying to swallow. "I have to get out—" she warned, climbing up and grasping the reins.

"We are close to our destination, and if you would look up you would see," he said somewhat tightly, pointing north and west. "Just over that ridge is the road to the next place we stop—"

"Good!" she shouted, heeling her mare into a gallop toward it. Hearing his muttered oath, she urged her mare faster as he tried to catch up.

Weaving through the wood with him close behind, she felt the thrill of the race added to the fact that they had survived the river. Angry at his iron self control, she sped toward the edge of the wood and out into the meadow. Halfway across she realized her mare was wheezing, and thought perhaps she pressed her too hard. Glancing up at the huge globe of the sun, she slowed her pace and finally reined to a stop. Jared, to her surprise, had fallen far behind, so she dismounted and raised her arms toward heaven, thankful to be far from the rushing water. Closing her eyes in thanksgiving, she dropped the reins and let her mare graze as the stallion's hooves announced his approach.

"Aileen!"

Opening her eyes abruptly, she turned to see an expression unlike any other he'd displayed. His eyes were like molten steel, his chest coated with perspiration and heaving. His horse, she noted, was foaming at the mouth and whinnied in fear as Jared reined him up suddenly.

"Are you happy, now?" he shouted at her despite the stallion's wild dancing.

She glared at him in self defense. "Yes I am!" she shouted back, planting her hands upon her hips. "And I want no more of rivers, woods or streams!"

His expression darkened considerably. "This is no time for jesting!" he thundered, pointing at her mare. "Do you see what you've done to the horses?"

She saw their wild eyed look, streaming sides and wheezing. Suddenly guilty for the animals' sake, she nevertheless held his glare. "I am entirely serious."

He shook his head and threw out his arms. "Well there are many more streams, rivers, mountains _and_ woods ahead of us, or would you prefer to take up residence here in this wheat field?"

"That would suit me fine!" she screeched. "At least out here I can breathe!"

He glared at her ominously, obviously fighting to control his own anger. One glance toward the ridge caused his expression to harden even more. "Get your horse," he ordered without looking down at her.

"Stop ordering me around! We need to rest—"

"We will rest at our lodgings, as I told you."

"Why should I believe you, that it is only a _short distance_?" she challenged. "You said what we have just covered was only a short distance."

"I also said it was difficult."

"It took all day!"

"You said you didn't want to know!"

Fearing his anger she attempted to control her own. Lifting her chin she forced herself to approach him. At closer range he towered high over her, mounted upon his stallion. With his back to the glare of the sun his face was shadowed. Her eyes ran over his whiskered face, which only accented the hard lines of his mouth. His breathing came hard beneath his half opened, damp tunic. She felt a stab of desire, feeling absurdly drawn to his anger. A series of complex emotions whirled between them as they stared at each other. All the challenges they'd encountered on this journey seemed suddenly unimportant—she no longer cared if she met any of them.

_**Jared studied her intently, trying to determine whether she was more angry or afraid.**_ Her eyes flashed with challenge and her color was high. The thin boy's tunic which had been soaked in the river outlined her breasts, severely limiting his powers of concentration. She was beautiful like this, with her eyes snapping like fire, her spirit filled with contradictions. He could not deny nor resist the dark excitement stirring between them, and was sorely tempted to silence her with a kiss. At the same time it occurred to him that he had never seen her this angry before—it was contagious.

"Conditions change rapidly in the mountains," he tried to explain. "Rains and snow melting swell the streams into rivers in only a matter of hours."

"You could have anticipated that," she huffed, "you seem to know everything else!"

"I never claimed to know," he reminded her, narrowing his gaze upon her. "You presume too much."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Come down here, Jared—I have something to say to you."

Praying for patience, he decided to comply. Sliding from the saddle he stood over her, noting how she had to drop her head back just to hold his gaze. He dropped the reins and let his horse canter off, heading toward her mare.

"Well?" he prompted softly, studying her upturned face as he waited for the ultimatum which was sure to issue forth.

She lifted her chin a notch higher. "I wish to go home."

His gaze shifted to the enticing curve of her lips before snapping back to her eyes. "I am not in the mood for games, Aileen."

She dropped her hands to her sides, fisting them. "I wish to go home, by another way of course. Surely you know the shortest path back."

_Unbelievable,_ he thought. _She cannot be serious._ At her defiant expression and continued silence he determined that she was.

"No," he answered sternly, turning away.

"Make me a map and I'll go myself!" she cried out, stopping him in his tracks. When he turned to face her he thought he saw her waver a bit in light of his own temper.

"I said no."

"You will do so much better without me—"

"Going back is impossible—"

"You don't need me tagging along making trouble for you," she croaked, "and I don't need to go where I am not wanted!"

His frustration mounted. "Where do you get these impressions?" he demanded. "Who said you were not wanted?"

"No one actually said—"

"May I remind you that you are _married_ to me?"

"Married?" she huffed. "I am not your wife in truth!"

He pointed a finger at her. "Then you forget your vows, and your bedding garment!"

"You seem to have forgotten _yours!_"

"We stay together, and that is final."

She glared at him, gathering strength. "You don't think I would do it, do you? Or that I'm capable of finding my own way back!"

He took a step closer, planting his hands upon his hips. "I think you are headstrong and foolish enough to do exactly that, and probably end up hurt or dead in the process!"

"Then I shall be happy to prove you wrong!" she declared, turning to stomp off. "You are now free of the burden of escorting me any further!"

He watched her stalk off, trying to decide whether or not to let her work off her frustration or go after her. At her approach the horses skipped off in fear.

"Come back here!" she shouted to them before glancing toward the direction of the road. They had to get out of the open and soon, if only he could get her to cooperate.

With a muttered oath in a tongue he had not spoken for some time, he started after her.

_**She heard him following and almost laughed in hysteria**_**.** "I am losing my mind," she whispered just as a hand grabbed her arm.

Whirling her to face him, he stood towering over her with an expression of shock upon his face. She felt his grip ease as his eyes traveled over her features. Trying to catch their breath, they stared at each other as if at a stalemate. She opened her lips to demand what he wanted when suddenly he surged toward her, his arms clamping around waist as he swept her up against his chest. She felt a hand at the back of her head just before he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. With a mutter of protest she gripped his arms to keep from falling backward, then at the heady insistence of his kiss wound her arms around his neck. She clung to him, returning his kiss with wild abandon. A burning hunger raged between them and she inhaled his sigh of relief and satisfaction. He lifted her against him, molding their bodies together and plunging them headlong into an ocean of passion.

_This is what we've wanted,_ she rejoiced, smoothing her hands over his strong shoulders and relishing the rock hard body he offered her. His chest pressed against hers, their clothing damp and steaming from the heat. She felt his hand curl over shoulder and travel up her neck.

_This is what we needed—_

She slid one hand inside his shirt, kneading the muscles of his chest impatiently. With a tortured groan he broke the kiss, pulled her hands from his body and disengaged himself. Drawing back, he stared at her panting, his eyes filled with tortured regret. Then he released her, turned and stalked off, leaving her trembling with desire and fear.

"Jared—" she choked, watching him pause as if he might change his mind and return to her. She watched him lift a hand to the back of his neck to massage it and was tempted to go to him and do it for him. Then he dropped his hand and tilted his head back to gaze up at the sun.

"We must go—" he warned, thought he did not move.

"Jared, please—I don't understand—"

He turned, cutting off her protest. His eyes were lit with desire and anger, and even a trace of grief. "You know that I am more than just an _escort _for you!" he insisted.

"I know." she croaked, nodding her head.

"And you are not a _burden_ to me—"

"I am, when your greatest desire is to rush to claim your inheritance and be free—"

"I don't _wish_ to be free!" he growled, "not of you!"

She stared at him, realizing how he must have interpreted her reaction to the water. _He doesn't know, _she heard a voice within her defending him. But she did not know how to tell him.

"I did not mean what I said," she confessed, her eyes flooding with tears. "I was just so afraid, and worn out! And the last thing I wish is to be forced upon you!"

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. "What we just shared was hardly forced!"

She stared at him a moment, then nodded in agreement. "No, it was not…"

He took a step toward her. "In fact our attraction to each other is perhaps the _only_ thing which is not forced."

"You are…attracted to me?"

He closed his eyes in frustration, confirming his answer.

She wanted to hear him say it. "Are you?" she croaked.

He glared at her. "Of course I am—what man wouldn't be?"

She gulped down the lump in her throat. "Jared—

"You belong with me," he panted. "It is too late to go home to your father."

"I don't wish to!" she shot back, hating the misunderstanding between them. "I just wanted to—just stay somewhere, and just rest!"

"Very good," he said in a low voice, whistling to his horse. "We have a short distance," he panted, pointing toward the setting sun. "And I suggest that along the way we use the time to collect ourselves and consider spending a lifetime together, be it in comfort or hardship, harmony or discord."

She gaped at him, thinking that was the second longest speech he'd delivered since she'd known him.

He glanced down at the waving wheat surrounding them and rubbed his temple. "Now I suggest we collect our horses and secure ourselves tonight's lodgings," he added before turning and striding away.

She watched him stalk off to grab the reins of her horse, breaking into a run after him. He turned his head to note her presence and mounted, extending the reins to her. She came to his side and looked up into his shadowed face as she took them from his hand.

"I don't know what overcame me," she tried to explain. "It was as if I just went—insane."

Without comment he turned and rode off, leaving her to mount by herself. She managed to drag herself up and followed after him, completely drained from all emotion.

_**What she had said about not being his wife was true, **_he had to admit—at least in part. She wasn't his wife—not in truth and not yet.

_Maybe that is the problem_, he wondered, analyzing the desire and hunger which she had just exhibited. They needed to be together and settle this, he decided, but without any real opportunity to do so. He wanted time for them, and he wanted her to desire it as much as he did, without fear. She must feel safe and comfortable, neither of which they enjoyed.

She rode up next to him, lifting her arm as she spoke. "The only reason I wanted to go back was to end all this," she attempted to explain.

He eyed her soberly, seeing how distraught and disheveled she was. As he did, his heart swelled with love for her. _I cannot lose her…_

"You _are_ my husband, by vow and by name," she stated. "I was wrong to—"

"Don't leave me," he said quietly, holding his breath inwardly. "Please..."

Her eyes swelled with tears as she shook her head. "I don't wish to," she choked. "I am not good at hard travel, Jared."

"You have managed beyond your experience," he told her, noting the rise in her colour. Even from a distance he could see the evidence of the burn of his whiskers against the tender skin of her cheeks. It made him feel boorish and selfish, yet he could not bring himself to apologize for kissing her.

Her eyes pleaded with him, as if she feared being left behind. "I am better now," she said meekly, coloring further.

He swept his gaze over her diminutive form. "Good."

"_**Are you still angry with me?"**_ the whisper came in the darkness. There would be little sleep tonight, he knew. Draping an arm over his eyes, he groaned inwardly

"No," he breathed. "Go to sleep."

They lay close upon the narrow pallets, barely able to see each other in the darkness. Unfortunately at least a half dozen men shared the hall with them, giving them little opportunity for privacy. And all of the private rooms were being renovated from storm damage.

"I do not believe you," she whispered.

He knew that earlier that day she had expressed herself through exhaustion and frustration, yet her words had prompted his own insecurities concerning the future to rise to the surface.

"I too was overwhelmed with exhaustion," he whispered back, "nothing more."

"Truly?" she whispered at the same time someone stirred a few pallets distant.

Jared turned on his side to face her, wishing he could see her despite the fact that their foreheads were nearly touching. "With God's grace we shall complete our task," he whispered, daring to reach for her hand. It felt cold despite the warm night. "We are stronger if we remain together."

"What is our task?" she whispered, tugging his hand until he leaned closer.

"You come with me to make a home," he informed her.

There was momentary silence, save for the gentle snoring of one of their fellow guests. "How can you be sure we will even have a home of our own?"

"We will, in time."

"In Llewellyn's court?" she whispered. "I doubt I shall see you as often there as I did in Edward's."

To that he could say nothing, for he could only pray about the arrangements already made.

"How will we manage everything?" she whispered again.

"Together," he answered. "Until then, I expect us to adapt ourselves to each other."

It was a matter of faith, he knew. It seemed that she however found it difficult to trust, at least judging by the frightened little girl he sometimes sensed within her. As he did now.

"I sense that our leaving has upset you, more than either of us anticipated," he whispered. When she did not reply, he continued. "I regret not spending this time in familiar surroundings, instead of seeing you bereft of comfort and loves ones and friends."

"I do miss Father," she whispered, "but what about those whom you left behind?"

He was unsure if she meant at Edward's keep or his family. "There are some things I must not entertain," he answered, releasing her hand and settling upon his back.

"But you do remember," she whispered faintly.

He closed his eyes and prayed, listening to the soft sound of her breathing.

_**The morning dawned grey and rainy,**_ awaking them with a distant call which carried across the fields beyond the monastery. Thinking it later than he'd wanted to rise, Jared sat up quickly. To his surprise they were alone in the hall, and glancing at Aileen he saw her stir and yawn, opening her beautiful eyes and gazing up at him. Her hair was lying in soft whisps around her face, some of it having escaped the confines of her cap. The boy's tunic she wore gaped low, revealing a hint of her cleavage and causing his stomach to drop with shock. Looking up he noted that in similar fashion she studied his appearance, her eyes rising slowly from the half opened tunic he wore. Something in her expression caused desire to reawaken within him, and he found he could not take his eyes from her. She sat up slowly, glancing around them and smiling up at him.

"We are alone," she whispered, reaching out to place her hand upon his arm. Then she lifted her lips to his cheek. "Thank you for understanding."

He held her gaze, nodding slightly. "My pleasure," he croaked, rising stiffly. "We should go to the kitchens before we leave."

"All right," she agreed, glancing to the window. "It seems to be raining."

He bent to gather his belongings. "That is unfortunate."

_**She tried not to stare at him, but it was difficult now that they were alone.**_ His hair was tousled yet strangely alluring. She remembered how it felt to slide her fingers through it, and her gaze was continually drawn to his mouth. The hard line of his lips was equally enticing, for she knew their power to deliver the kind of kisses which robbed her of all thought and ability. As he reached for his bag she watched the strong cords in his neck pull, and when his shirt slid low over his collarbone she swallowed in mesmerized appreciation. There was something powerful and dangerous about his masculinity, and though she had experienced his most gentlemanly conduct and care she was fascinated by that part of him which was unpredictable and dangerous.

When he turned and offered her his hand she grasped it, feeling him pull her easily to her feet. Once she stood before him she was unable to do more than stare. At her hesitation he paused, glanced down at her things and looked up. A tiny smile played about his lips.

"Would you like some help?" he offered softly, straightening before her.

She smiled before she realized that he was prompting her to gather her things, and she bent to do so as quickly as she could. Coloring with embarrassment, she stuffed them into her bag and followed him out of the hall, wondering why on earth she had ever thought of parting from him and returning home.

They visited the kitchens, where two packed meals awaited them. Jared dropped several coins into the offering box on their way toward the stables, passing the chapel from which they heard soft chanting. Following him closely, she touched his arm as they approached the end of the corridor. She glanced longingly toward the service, glancing up at him for his approval. He shook his head and turned his attention to the exit.

"Have you no need to pray, then?" she whispered once they were on their way.

He glanced down at her, one brow lifted in surprise. "I do my praying outside," he answered quietly, nodding toward the stables.

Later, when they were on their way, she stared at the distant snow covered mountain peaks and thinking how perfectly they represented the loving care of the Creator. Glancing at Jared's back, she sighed and accepted his practice without question. Maybe he was right, she decided, beginning to pray for their journey with her eyes upon the difficulties she sensed a mountain crossing represented. Maybe this was exactly the place to pray.

_**After three hours of climbing he knew they should stop and rest, **_but sensed that they were being watched and decided against it. It was difficult on both of them, and he did not wish to experience the trouble of another argument from being too exhausted. He eyed the swirling mists, judging the ascent to be just beyond the plateau. So heavy was the fog that he could feel his clothing dampen, and when he turned to glance at her he saw her shiver. She met his gaze with a brave smile.

"We'll stop and rest a bit," he offered, nodding toward the arms she rubbed with her hands. "How do you feel?"

"Cold," she replied, her breath puffing out in a small white cloud. She glanced around at the shadowed trees and met his gaze. "And you?"

He slowed to a halt and dismounted, going to her side to help her down. "It will be cold until the sun breaks through," he answered, reaching into his bag to pull out a warm tunic. "Put this on while I unpack some food."

She obeyed while he handed her the trencher bread and some dried meat. They ate quickly, then turned to add warmer clothing to their attire. He noted her trouble with lacing the tunic, and she looked up and blew on her fingers.

"They are too cold to be of any use," she commented, rubbing her hands together.

"Allow me," he offered, pulling the lacings from her hand and beginning to tie them. Halfway through he realized what he was doing and slowed, lifting his gaze to hers. Her eyes were warm and liquid, and he felt her hands touch his. He remembered kissing her and was nearly overcome with the desire to do so again. In his mind played visions of untying her clothing and becoming one with her, his wife. So with a gruff mutter he turned away before she could see how her nearness affected him.

_**Aileen noted his stern expression, wondering what had changed between them.**_ Perhaps the intimate gesture of him tying her shirt meant nothing to him, yet the proximity of his warm, capable hands so close to her chest made her shudder with anticipation. Unable to read his expression she felt frustrated that he hid so much from her. And his moods seemed to change abruptly and without warning. Especially if they got too close to each other.


	14. Chapter 14 The Manor House

_**Chapter 14 The Manor House**_

_**The sun was beginning to set when she knew she must tell him.**_ The nausea would not retreat, but continued to come in waves which threatened to knock her from her saddle. Hours before they had finished what little food the brothers had provided them for their journey. She'd finished all the water in her skin a hours before yet still felt parched from the heat. It seemed incongruous that snow covered mountain could allow such hot air to stifle them, and took deeper breaths to quell her quivering stomach.

"See that distant range?" he interrupted her thoughts.

She lifted her head, gasping from a wave of lightheadedness that he surely interpreted as wonder or surprise. She could not help but appreciate the beauty of the icy peaks that loomed so surprisingly close before them.

"We shall reach our destination in less than two hours."

She nodded, hanging her head.

"Aileen—do you need a rest?"

"I—feel sick," she gasped, gripping her pommel with both hands.

"Whoa!" he called, reaching out to catch her reins. "Hold on," he soothed, bringing her mare to a stop. She heard his boots hit the ground, then felt his hands at her waist. "Let me help you down…"

Gripping his shoulders, she let him pull her down. He took her in his arms and carried her into the shade, which she felt immediately. Clinging to his shoulders, she rested her head at the side of his neck, breathing deeply and noting the pleasant scent of his skin. Her mare whinnied softly but he spoke comfortingly to it. He sat her down atop a boulder and guided her back to a broad tree trunk.

"Drink this," he ordered softly, his hand upon her shoulder.

Taking his skin she lifted her head and drank greedily, despite his admonition to slow down. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him in gratitude.

"Why did you not tell me?" he scolded gently as she rested her head back against the trunk. It was blessedly cool in the shade, and she could hear the gentle rush of a brook off in the distance. He was rummaging in his bag and then his hand caught hers and opened her palm. Into it he dropped a piece of bread.

She looked up into his worried frown as she slapped her palm over her mouth and greedily ate the bread. Chewing it slowly, she closed her eyes and sighed, resting her head back again. His soft chuckle seemed to surround her and coaxed her to open her eyes. With a guilty expression but still chewing, she smiled into his dark green gaze. Lifting her palm toward him, she offered him the tiny piece which she had left.

He shook his head. "You finish it," he ordered gently, shaking his head. "You should have told me that you were hungry."

She swallowed gratefully. "I thought we'd eaten it all."

He glanced toward the vista of the peaks. "I always save a bit," he stated, "from years of training."

"I see," she mused, gently brushing the crumbs from her boy's tunic. He turned back just as her hands faltered at her breasts. His is eyes dropped to her opened neckline before shooting off toward the forest.

"I feel better now," she informed him, straightening. "Thank you, Jared."

He glanced back at her and nodded. "Think you might get back up?"

"I think so," she answered, moving to the edge of the boulder. Before she could straighten he bent and scooped her up into his arms, ignoring her protests.

"Allow me," he said formally, carrying her to her mare. Then reaching up, he somehow managed to hold her while she scrambled back into the saddle. His hands guided her boot into the stirrups as she settled herself.

"Thank you, kind sir," she breathed, noting how his hand lingered over her instep. She watched him stretch back his shoulders and heard his ragged sigh. When at last he lifted his head, his expression was tortured.

"I regret making you endure all this," he confessed, "and someday I hope to make it up to you."

She reached out to touch his shoulder. "Jared, I was rash with my complaining, back there…"

He dropped his hand and stepped back. "We must continue."

Her eyes followed him as he turned and mounted. She wanted to tell him that she would go anywhere with him, yet thought it might sound trite. Instead she felt suddenly inspired to lean forward.

"You forgot something," she called, smiling when he turned to look at her as she dangled his skin in the air.

"Keep it," he stated, his eyes lingering upon her.

She sighed contentedly, feeling refreshed. "About that offer," she breathed, absently threading its strap around her pommel. "I have an idea."

"Do you?" he answered, his eyes cautious.

"There is a way you can make it up to me, but it will cost you."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "All right—name your price."

She gestured for him to start, and they rode side by side. "I would like you to teach me a skill, Jared."

His gaze narrowed. "I say this at great risk, but all right—barring the use of a sword."

"Teach me how to swim?" she asked timidly, feeling the guilt of her actions by the river. "You must have noticed that I cannot, and how frightened that makes me."

He turned his head forward, his gaze casting up the trail.

"You can swim, can you not?" she prompted his silence.

Heaving a great sigh, he looked at her with a smile playing about his lips. "It seems there was a greater purpose behind my growing up by the sea."

"Good—I wish to begin as soon as we are settled there."

He glanced at her slyly. "How can you be sure that I am a qualified teacher?"

Her appreciative gaze traveled over his strong arms and long legs. "Instinct," she sighed, smiling up into his eyes.

A current of longing and desire pulled at them, and when he pulled his gaze from hers she heard his deep chuckle, which lifted her spirits considerably.

"We have a bargain, milady."

_**Two hours later he stared down at the bustling activity of the campsite, **_his lips tight with suppressed anger. He had not witnessed it himself, he'd never have believed it. As he studied their mannerisms and clothing he knew that he was not mistaken. Aware of Aileen's silent presence at his side, he shook his head in resignation and met her troubled gaze.

_Who are they, Jared?_ she seemed to ask, but he hadn't the heart to tell her. Instead he switched his gaze to the trail from which they had just veered and nodded in its direction. They turned and rode back toward it quietly, and she followed unquestioningly. He was aware of how well tuned their senses were despite their relatively short time together, thinking it was one of the more encouraging observations he'd made this day.

Switching back down the trail they took the westbound fork instead of the one he'd planned, making their way back into the forest. They were exhausted and hungry, not to mention filthy but his return would have to wait another day. It was not worth the risk of being found out prematurely. When they had moved well out of earshot he met her expectant gaze.

"Llewellyn's men," he said with distaste, noting her reaction when she tightened her grip upon the reins.

"He's here?" she croaked, her eyes wide with fear. "How did they find out where we—"

"They haven't," he reassured her. "They are well off course, though their presence here is troubling."

She shook her head in confusion. "I thought you said we were near your home."

"We are, but they will never find the way," he replied. "My brothers must have put their heads together and attempted to lead the way."

She glanced back. "They are there, with Llewellyn's men?"

"It is the only explanation for their presence," he admitted. "Though I saw none of them."

"But how could you, so high up?"

"I would know," he said soberly, certain that Father had not told them. "It was only a matter of time before he would come for me."

"Time we wanted to spend together," she sighed softly.

He turned to look at her, dismissing the urge to lean over and kiss her. Glancing up at the darkening sky, he tried to smile encouragingly. "There is a village not far from here—we shall spend the night there and start again tomorrow."

"Will they not be watching the village?" she worried.

He shook his head "If they even show their faces there, they shall have Hell to pay."

Her expression brightened. "The village is friendly to your clan?"

"The entire cantreff is hostile to the likes of Prince Llewellyn," he informed her.

She lifted her chin. "Then I look forward to meeting them—do you have any relatives here from your mother's side?"

He nodded. "A few—and my mother had close friends here."

She nodded thoughtfully, gazing off toward the distance where they could see lights ahead. "Perhaps someday you will tell me about her."

"I will," he sighed, "but for now we must keep our distance until I can be sure it is safe."

_**Crowds of wedding guests filled the village, **_surprising them both as they rode into the midst of the celebration. It was barely sunset and the festivities were well underway with musicians, jongleurs, jousting matches and an open marketplace crowded with people. Jared spied a manor house sitting atop the ridge and headed in that direction, hoping to find a quiet place for them to rest. They settled the horses at the livery and then in typical fashion he and Aileen shuffled toward the inn, looking trail worn and dusty and very much like two brothers traveling together. As they entered the foyer they were again surprised to see it crowded with people who were exiting the dining room and rushing down the stairs and out into the streets for the evening celebrations.

Making their way toward the keeper, they were told that only one room was free due to the constable's daughter having just married in the afternoon, which accounted for the involvement of what seemed to be the entire village. The guests were finishing a celebratory dinner and they were told to take their time for it would be set out most of the evening.

"That so," Jared sighed as he signed false names in the log and paid. He shrugged off the disapproving glances he and Aileen earned by their appearance. "We'll need baths drawn."

"Of course, sir," the older man chuckled, eyeing Aileen. "Your son, or brother?"

"Brother," he snorted, elbowing Aileen and nearly knocking her off balance. She swatted his arm, earning a smile from the keeper.

"From where are ye?"

Jared looked up from the coins he'd placed upon the counter. "The Marches," he said blandly, noting the man's grimace of distaste.

"Then welcome home," he replied, apparently recognizing his accent. "Here we are far from the clutches of Saxon rule!"

Jared nodded and turned to leave, gesturing for Aileen to go up. "Obliged," he answered, starting after her.

"No one's used the baths today, with all the excitement. You've the place to yourselves."

"Fine—we need rest and do not wish to be disturbed," he added, tipping his hat to the man.

Once they closed the door behind them he leaned tiredly back against the door, eyeing his "brother" with cautious relief. "He doesn't suspect."

She glanced up. "I'll take the first bath," she claimed, glancing up from untying her heavy boots. Lifting her feet from them, she leaned back with relish. "That is a relief."

He pulled away from the door and checked the windows, which he opened halfway. Testing the bed closest to him with the press of his hand, he found it acceptable. If a bit narrow for two.

She stood up and stretched, eyeing the direction of his gaze. "Guard the door?"

He straightened and crossed his arms. "I doubt that will be necessary _brother_."

She smiled saucily and sauntered away, glancing out into the corridor before she closed the door behind her. Now that he had the opportunity, he picked up his bag and exited the room, leaving the door unlatched behind him.

_**So there is a wedding celebration to attend,**_ she mused as she stepped back and evaluated the condition of her only gown. It was somewhat wrinkled and a trifle musty in odour, but with a sigh of resignation she decided it would have to do. Outside she could hear the sounds of merrymaking rising from the streets and was transported back in time for a moment, remembering her last night of tournament at Shrewsbury as well as the way Jared had looked at her across the bailey. Now, telling herself that what she was about to do was not deceitful, she still feared that he might perceive it as such. Despite this she crossed her shawl over the low neckline of her gown to conceal her cleavage, longing for a looking glass in which to check her appearance. This bath, however, had no such luxury.

"Perhaps it's better there is none," she whispered, smoothing her hair into a long tail which she bound quickly and decorated with one silk ribbon. Would he be pleasantly surprised, or angry that she had dressed in feminine clothes, no longer using that ridiculous disguise. _It is a wedding celebration,_ she reasoned; _who would suspect Jared of anything with a woman by his side, instead of a little brother? _

"Besides," she whispered, pinching her cheeks and practicing a warm smile, "he's seen me dressed as a boy for far too many days."

Even better than being able to dress in a gown, her monthly flux had finally ended the previous day, allowing her the option to prepare for the evening ahead both in body and in spirit. She had bathed using the tiny square of lavender soap hidden in her bag and was confident of its power to attract him. Finishing her preparations, she smoothed her hand down over her abdomen and felt breathless with anticipation. A wedding celebration to attend, a fresh bath and the freedom to seduce her husband all presented themselves on the horizon, and she was not about to lose this opportunity. Now if she could just get him to sneak out the back way, no one would suspect that she was the same person who'd arrived with him earlier.

Tiptoeing back to their door she knocked softly, and it opened at once as if he'd been waiting for her. A frustrated expression furrowed his brown, followed by its dissolution into blank shock as he stared at her a moment. Then without comment he stepped, admitting her to their room and closing the door behind her. Following his lead she refrained from commenting on his dress, though inwardly she felt even more excited by his appearance. He had also bathed, it appeared, and was dressed in a dark brown surcoat with matching chausses, his hair combed back and slightly damp in appearance. And his face was cleanly shaved.

"It seems we've entertained the same plan," he said quietly, his eyes traveling appreciatively over her features and clothing. Then he smiled, and it transformed his face, making him look even more attractive. "You look lovely."

She picked up her skirt with both hands and dipped into a slight curtsy. "And you, milord, look very fine yourself."

He nodded in the direction of the opposite end of the corridor outside their room. "There is another set of stairs," he hinted, reaching out to take her arm. "Shall we?"

She folded her hands over his as he opened the door. "Pray no one sees us before we reach it," she smiled. "Or they shall wonder what happened to your poor brother."

"He is resting comfortably after a brief illness," Jared said just above a whisper, latching the door behind them.

They trespassed the empty corridor to the opposite stairs, and after descending them found themselves just outside the buttery. Off to its left the kitchens bustled with activity, allowing them to pass by undetected. The ground floor corridor led thankfully into the dining room, bypassing the foyer. Inside the large room a few dozen people crowded around the tables where food was being replenished by the servers for another wave of guests. Jared led her to the end of one line where they stood without speak, so loud was the volume of talking and music. She looked up into his eyes and they smiled and shook their heads before it was time to step forward and pick up plates and utensils. After filling them with many different choices of food they managed to find a table tucked into the corner of the room and sat down to face each other. Jared nodded to her before lowered his gaze momentarily, as the movement of his lips told her that he was giving thanks for their meal. She found his lack of formality in the practice refreshing, and had soon adopted it as her own. He was her husband, after all, and she was to adapt herself to him as the Holy Scriptures advised.

He straightened and lifted his wine glass, waiting until she did the same. They looked into each other's eyes as they each took a sip, then began their light meal. She leaned close in order to speak to him, for she knew that if she did not they would never hear each other.

"This is wonderful," she breathed happily, "a fine reward for so many days of traveling."

"And eating such poor food," he agreed, forking braised potatoes into his mouth.

She tasted the greens and nodded. "It is nice to eat something fresh."

He glanced around the room at the rise in pitch, frowning somewhat at the group of men seated in close proximity to their table. Their table was filled with mugs but no plates, and it was obvious that they had all had too much to drink. Shooting her a warning look, he smiled and apparently disregarded them.

"You look like very much like a lovely young woman I once knew," he teased.

Thinking of the heap of dirty boy's clothing waiting for her in their room, she giggled. "Is that so? Well then I hope I might distract you from thinking too long about her."

"Hope no longer," he answered, taking another swallow of his wine. "I am already quite distracted."

She held his eyes, loving the sparkling shards of silver within their depths. "I am honoured, milord."

He leaned closer, placing a forkful of cold salmon into his mouth. She did the same, holding his gaze. Her heart accelerated just looking at him, and she caught the clean masculine scent of his soap. Feeling warm beneath his steady regard, she was brushed by a passerby and felt her shawl slip off one shoulder. Reaching out to tug it back up, she watched his eyes follow the gesture and change his expression. As his gaze shot back to hers she lifted her glass and drained its contents.

"Aileen," he began, taking a moment to glance at the men adjacent to their table. Their laughter rang out at the same time, coarse and loud.

"This is fine wine," she commented, fanning herself and feeling pleasantly lightheaded. "May I have more, please?"

He held her gaze a bit too long before complying, and she knew he disapproved of the neckline of her gown. "Of course," he said curtly, pouring her half. "Though you realize it is not watered."

"I do," she breathed, lifting it to her lips and taking a sip. "It tastes sweet, like nectar," she gushed, meeting his thoughtful expression.

_Truly, Jared,_ she thought as she looked meaningfully at him,_ you must learn to loosen that tight control over yourself and enjoy life. _And she was just the person to show him how.

"It does," he agreed, gesturing toward her plate. "But we must take care on an empty stomach."

She stabbed a piece of fowl and popped it into her mouth, her eyes holding his. To her delight he seemed distracted by the way her lips moved, making her feel even more carefree. Reaching out to touch his arm, she glanced around the crowded room, happy to be showing him off to the world.

Another burst of masculine laughter rose from the table near theirs, to which Jared glanced in apprehension. Turning her head, she saw that they were watching them with bleary yet interested eyes. She immediately turned back and met Jared's gaze.

"We should finish up," he suggested, "a walk in the fresh air will do us good."

She nodded, fanning herself. "It is getting rather warm in here," she agreed.

He rose and offered her his arm, which she took upon arising. As they walked toward the door she let her shawl slip to her elbows at the same time he glanced down at her.

"Aileen," he warned, his eyes shooting to the men who had arisen as well and were following them through the crowd. "Your gown—" he stated quietly, causing her to pull up her gown.

"It fits a bit too loosely," she admitted, "but I wanted to look nice for you."

His smile did not reach his eyes as he moved behind her. "You look beautiful—keep moving, we're almost to the foyer."

Four very brawny men suddenly pushed the others away and quickly surrounded them. Jared put his arm around her and held her close.

"Greetings, lady," one of them boomed, sweeping off his plumed hat. "Are you enjoying the festivities?"

She watched his unsteady bow, trying not to laugh as she glanced from one to the other.

"Allow me to introduce ourselves!" the man continued, earning a chorus of laughter from his companions.

"We were just leaving," Jared warned, moving away.

"I am Stephen duRene—these are my brothers and cousins," he hiccoughed, smirking at Jared. "And you are?"

"On our way out of doors," Jared said curtly, nodding as he gently pushed her along.

The man caught her hand. "Dance with me!" he ordered, yanking her to a stop. "Surely you will not refuse a dance at my cousin's wedding?"

Feeling uncomfortable, Aileen shook her head. She felt Jared's hand tighten at her waist. "I do not dance well—"

"Congratulations," Jared answered, "now please allow us to pass—"

"I think the lady protests!" he insisted, throwing Jared a mocking glance before he gazed pleadingly at Aileen. "Surely your uncle will not mind—"

"Her _husband_ minds a great deal," Jared corrected, his expression darkening. "Let us pass."

"An arranged marriage no doubt!" Stephen declared with a smile, waving dismissively toward Jared.

One of his companions leaned close to him. "Leave off, Stephen," he warned, glancing at Jared. "We mean no disrespect, sir."

"Join me for just one dance!" Stephen insisted, yanking free of the hold on his arm.

"We do not know you, sir—" she emphasized.

"Then we can become acquainted—"

"But you have insulted my husband and own him an apology—"

"Indeed, you are a freewoman—"

"Yes, sir, but perhaps you might learn some manners when addressing ladies—"

"Aileen," Jared warned, tugging her away from them.

"You have insulted my husband and therefore me, necessitating—"

"That is enough!" Jared complained, ducking to hoist her up and over his shoulder as easily as if she were a sack of meal.

She gripped his shoulders in protest. "Jared, put me down!" she screeched as the crowd suddenly erupted into laughter and applause, as well as raucous shouts and whistles. He was moving through the crowded room as she tugged at his arm. "Please, put me down!"

"The man is a bully!" Stephen crowed, ignoring the restraining hold of his relatives as he pressed after them.

"She's a married woman!" they warned, pulling him away.

"Put me down!" she protested, pounding his shoulder as he continued toward the stairs. Her head spun and she felt humiliated and angry. "I will go with you, just put me down!"

"Hold still."

"I was trying to explain—"

"He was not listening to you—"

"Why couldn't you be patient for one moment longer—"

"I lost patience long ago," he answered beneath the cheering that followed them.

_They are enjoying this!_ she realized as she kicked her legs, Unfortunately his arm only clamped down over them as he moved to the first stair.

"Put me down!" she cried as he began to climb.

"Head down, or you'll strike it on the beams," he advised, ignoring the pound of her fist onto his back.

The cheering blended into laughter and singing as they climbed the stairs, and she felt as she had so many times before, humiliated and outwitted as she'd been for many years. How could he treat her so unreasonably—and what happened to their plan of going out for a pleasant walk?

Still struggling, she heard him kick open the door to their room. Ducking her head, she clung to his arms as he swept inside, kicked the door shut and finally deposited her inside. Once she was upright she stumbled, feeling strangely off balance. Raising a hand to her, she heard the bolt slide in place, the sound of it bringing her out of her fog. She whirled to face him.

"How could you humiliate me like that?" she accused, ignoring the ominous expression upon his face. He planted his hands upon his fists and appeared to be attempting to control his anger. Her own burned and demanded an explanation.

"It was necessary, unfortunately!"

"Necessary?" she croaked. "I just wanted him to apologize—"

"Had we waited for that you would have been theirs for the taking!" he shot back before stalking toward the window.

"He needed to realize how insulting his behavior was!" she defended, watching him throw it open and lean halfway out. He seemed to be scanning the vista below before he pulled back in, shutting the window abruptly.

"Your opinion would not have mattered much," he stated, his gaze raking her critically. "They had no care for their behavior, which was obvious."

She threw her shawl onto the chair in protest. "And I am no one's for the taking!"

His eyes dropped momentarily to her low neckline and shot back up. "You are mine for the taking, milady," he said quietly, "and I expect you to act the part."

"Am I?" she breathed, feeling as if she were feverish. "As a matter of fact, I was defending you!"

"I prefer you to heed my warning, especially in a potentially dangerous situation."

"Danger from what?" she demanded. "He had so much to drink he could hardly stand straight! The only danger was of him stepping upon my toes in a dance!"

"You think so?"

"I know so! I once danced with your own squire, who was in a similar state and you did nothing about that!"

"Ben is a lad—those were grown men, and four of them!" he argued. "And a dance was the farthest thing from their minds! _You_ were the planned entertainment for their evening!"

She laughed at the image of that happening. "You imagine far too much, milord!"

He eyed her with a molten glare. "You will just have to trust my judgment in these things."

"And what about our walk, Jared? Were we not supposed to have enjoyed ourselves this night, instead of arguing about who is right?"

"Now is not the time—"

"It is _never_ the time, unless you find enjoyment in making me obey your every command!" she protested, yanking the ribbon from her hair and tossing it across the room.

"I enjoy nothing of the kind," he replied, pulling off his surcoat, "but I do expect you to avoid getting us both into trouble!"

"Perhaps you are too preoccupied with trouble!" she posited, lifting a hand to unfasten her sleeve.

He looked up from unfastening his tunic. "I am trained to evaluate and foresee the potential for trouble."

"We were having a wonderful evening until that point!" she complained, working on the other sleeve. "Until you became silent and disapproving."

He threw aside his vest and began to unlace his tunic. "Be grateful I foresaw what was coming."

"Grateful?" she repeated, reaching for the lacing at the back of her gown. Her eyes were drawn to his fingers as he loosened his shirt.

"Perhaps you prefer the company of men who are too gay and drunk to care about your feelings," he suggested.

"They were just welcoming us—"

"They were leering at you!" he shouted, pursing his lips before he came closer.

She turned her back to present it to him for his help. When he began to help her with the lacings she turned her head to look up at him. "It was hardly my fault," she explained. "I did nothing to warrant their attention!"

His eyes traveled down the curve of her neck so that she could almost feel the touch of his gaze upon the naked skin beneath. "You call this gown 'nothing'?"

He was so close that she did feel his breath brush the hair at her temple. At the same time his hands braced her back as the gown parted. She shivered in response but held his gaze. "You did not object to it earlier."

He leaned closer, his thumbs brushing her bare back. "It was covered by your shawl," he whispered.

"The shawl would not stay in place," she told him. "As you know, I carry few of my own clothes with me—perhaps you'd prefer I continue to dress as a boy?"

He released her, causing the front of her gown to slide down. She clutched it to her breasts and turned as he walked toward the bed and sat down. "Perhaps you should, of keep to watered wine."

She marched toward him. "Are you implying that I've had too much to drink as well?"

He glanced up as he dropped a boot to the floor. "Come to your own conclusions."

"All right!" she croaked, turning away to peel down her gown as he worked on his other boot. "I was very thirsty, and there was nothing else to quench my thirst," she explained, resting a hand upon his shoulder as she stepped out of the dress. It occurred to her that neither of them had undressed in the other's presence before, which she discounted as less important than the discussion at hand. "I admit that I am not accustomed to wine, so thank you Sir Knight for rescuing me!"

He threw down his hose and watched her drape the gown over the chest at the foot of the bed. "Consider yourself fortunate that a brawl over you was only scarcely avoided," he said evenly.

She turned to face him in her chemise. "You would not fight them, for that would only attract more attention and someone might wonder about your identity!"

"Is that so?" he said, looking up at her with an enigmatic expression. "That may be, yet I would still expect you to be quick at heeding a warning."

"Only if you promise not to handle me like a sack of grain," she qualified.

"I will, if you promise to be a submissive wife."

She sat down at his side to pull off her own hose, noting how the bed tilted her against his leg. "Who could be more submissive than I?" she wanted to know, watching him as he got up and turned his back. "If I can even be considered a wife," she thought aloud.

He turned slowly and gazed down at her. "What did you say?"

She shrugged, her attention upon her discarded hose. "I too have expectations as to how a husband should behave."

"And those are?"

"To be considerate, to share plans and goals," she detailed, rising to turn down the coverlet, "as well as sharing his feelings and thoughts."

He spread his arms wide. "I have done that."

She glanced up at him with a huff. "Mere tidbits."

He came closer, setting his hands upon his hips. "I fail to see exactly what it is that you want from me."

She straightened to face him. "I fail to see how you expect us to suit as well as you have _predicted_ when you give so little of yourself to accomplish the goal!"

"All right—I will give you what you want," he said sternly. "I will share what I am feeling right now—"

"Good, and finally!" she railed. "Please continue!"

"I am angered and frustrated by all that we have suffered yet have never enjoyed," he began, advancing upon her.

Slowly backing away, she stared up at him in awe, drinking in the words that were at last breaking forth. "Go on," she encouraged, though she felt a bit intimated by his closeness.

"My thoughts are jealous and selfish," he said darkly, moving closer though her back touched the bedpost. He reached up to frame her jaw with his palm. "Enough to be characterized as completely and insanely possessive—"

"Jared," she gulped, her eyes locked with his as she clutched his waist.

"I want to keep you safe and hide you from the world, and freely admit my desire to allow no other man to gaze upon you and so desire you for himself—"

"But Jared—"

"I confess great anxiety over the future should we be separated and you be found still a virgin, therefore free to become another man's wife—"

"Jared please—" she croaked, sliding her hands up his bare chest.

"Yet despite my noblest aspirations I want to make you mine without a care for the consequences just to stop the longing and yearning I feel tearing me apart—"

"Ohh!" she gasped when he embraced her tightly, pressing her back against the bedpost.

"I want to give myself to you," he said hoarsely, tilting her chin up, "_all _of myself," he whispered meaningfully.

With a moan of apology she wound her arms around his neck, feeling his hand brace the back of her head and they kissed in desperation. Within seconds their contest of wills ended as if nothing had blown up between them to separate them. She sensed him finally yield to the passion between them as he kissed her hungrily, pulling her away from the post and backing her up toward the bed. Then he was bending and sitting upon the mattress, taking her onto his lap as she lung to him. Sifting her hands into his hair, she held him for her kisses, their breaths mingling as they drank of the wine of their love. Then he broke away, gazing into her eyes with one hand treasuring her cheek.

"I cannot help myself," he breathed, kissing her as he spoke, "I must have you, Aileen."

"Then take me," she sighed, pushing at his shoulders until he lay back. She stretched over his chest, touching him at her leisure as she kissed his lips. At one point he dropped his head back and she smiled at her apparent effect upon him. "Do you surrender?" she panted.

He closed his eyes with a moan. "Completely," he admitted, his hands still holding her arms.

"Good, now you have satisfied my requirements," she said triumphantly, giggling before she kissed his throat.

"What else to you require of me?" he begged for mercy, one eye opening to glance at her.

"Your forgiveness," she said simply, lifting a finger to trace along his jaw. "For I have not acted as a proper wife should."

His other eye opened. "You sound like your 80 year old chaperone," he warned.

"It is true," she nodded, "for when I am with you I care nothing about proper behavior. I have thrown myself at you, and even tried to anger you just to get you to respond."

"I am thrilled by your behavior," he said, his lips curling toward a smile.

She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead to his chest, feeling him tense.

"Do you think you have offended me?" he asked incredulously.

She peeked up at him. "I've acted no better than a tavern wench!" she croaked, reddening in embarrassment.

"You've behaved like a wife who wishes to enjoy her husband, as well as her own powers over him—you are to be commended."

"Then you are not offended?"

He laughed harshly, shaking his head. "I would be a madman to want such behavior from you."

"Then why did you stop?" she asked shyly.

He groaned and sat up, raking a hand through his hair. "Because I want to make love to you, can you not see that?"

"No, I cannot!" she croaked, sitting close by his side. "Not when you continually frustrate it!"

"Tonight I saw in myself the same thing as was in those men who leered at you—"

"I _want_ you to leer at me!"

"You've had too much to drink, Aileen,"

"I was dizzy, but now I feel fine, and I _want_ you to make love to me!"

A shrill scream tore into the night, and they heard laughter follow it. People were singing at the top of their voices outside in the streets. He shook his head in frustration. "This is not right, not for you or for us."

To her horror she yawned, again feeling a wave of dizziness. Unfortunately his keen eyes noted her every move.

"I want it too," he admitted softly, reaching up to place a fingertip over her lips. "But first you must rest."

She stared at him a moment, and when he touched her arm she shifted to her side. He helped her up, walking her to the head of the bed. There he bent to guide her under the top sheet, covering her gently and leaning over to kiss her forehead. She closed her eyes in regret, suddenly overcome with drowsiness.

"Jared," she breathed, "come to bed."

He hovered over her, then she felt him move away. Opening her heavy lidded eyes, she saw him move to the window. He stood with his back to her looking out into the moonlight. He had extinguished the lamp and stood bathed in its silver glow.

"Jared…"

"Go to sleep Aileen," he said tiredly.

She stretched her arm out over the empty place in the bed. "But _you_ need your rest.."

"I will come later…"


	15. Chapter 15 The Cure

_**Chapter 15 The Cure**_

_**She woke with a throbbing pain in her head, **_made worse when she opened her eyes to the bright light. Pressing her palm against her head she lifted it from the pillow, sinking back with a groan at the way her pain worsened.

_The wine_ she remembered—_one full glass and a bit more was all it took!_ With a rush of embarrassment she remembered Jared warning her about it, but to no avail. She had been thirsty, after all. Being exhausted only added to what had now blossomed into complete. Why hadn't she anticipated this reaction? And why didn't she listen to him?

As she lay there she realized that the quiet surrounding her confirmed his absence, but where could he have gone? She recalled the fact that they had argued, but it was now only a dim memory. Surely that hadn't driven him away, she reasoned. They'd argued before, and Jared was far more stalwart and committed than that. As the distant sounds from below stairs filtered up to her, she realized that it must be late. Attempting to rise again to find out where he was, she slowly sat up and gazed about the room. All around the room their clothing had been flung, though she could not remember why. Reaching out to snatch up her shawl from the bedrail she stared at the wine stain darkening one corner of it in surprise. What _had_ actually happened here last night?

Beyond the window a bright blue sky was broken by white clouds which drifted past her view. Suddenly a frightening thought crossed her foggy mind: what if he had left without her? As she massaged her temple she remembered her last intact memory from the night before—

that of her husband's black silhouette at the window, framed in moonlight. One glance toward the other side of the bed told her that it was undisturbed. The pillow bore no dent and the blankets were still tucked neatly into that side. Why had he not joined her? Had she offended him enough to cause him to avoid her? Hanging her head, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, unable to summon any further memories. With another groan she lifted her hands to her head and pressed inward upon it.

"Thirsty?" a deep voice asked, startling her. With a gasp of surprise she glanced to the other side of the room as he frowned. He stood filling the threshold, his expression changing from amusement to concern. A cup of something hot steamed in his hand as his grey-green gaze swept over her. Then with two silent steps he was inside and closing the door behind him. The sound of the latch pierced her ears in the silence.

Shoving back the wild disarray of her hair she sat higher back against her pillows, noting how the slight lift of one corner of his mouth hinted at a smile as he came closer.

"Do _not_ laugh," she warned, pressing her hand to her head as he wiped all expression from his face. Despite this his eyes twinkled with interest as he came to the side of the bed.

"Should I ask how you feel?" he asked gently.

"My head hurts."

His hand extended the drink like a peace offering. "This will help."

She shifted her gaze from the mug to his sober expression, then reached up and accepted it. Cupping it between her hands she sniffed the rising vapour as he sat carefully upon the bed. Beneath the blanket she felt the press of his hip at her calf. He was fully dressed, wearing black chausses and a blindingly white shirt that accentuated the dark stubble of his whiskers.

"It smells awful," she complained, smiling despite her pain. _He looks wonderful, but exhausted._ "What is it?"

His eyes glowed with restrained amusement. "Better not to know."

Beneath his watchful gaze she took a reluctant sip. It was tart, but not as unpleasant as its odour. Feeling the steam dampen the hair framing her face, she took a swallow and glanced into its brown murky depths. The mattress shifted slightly as he leaned over her legs, planting one hand upon the mattress as he leaned upon it. Looking up, she found his expression sympathetic.

"You shall have to trust me," he added, his lips parting to reveal his white, evenly spaced teeth.

Flooded with sudden desire, she realized how few people kept their teeth with such care, and nodded distractedly to his statement. Beneath his steely gaze she felt naked, though she wore her chemise and used her hair as a cover. The fact that he was dressed and she was not seemed somehow improper, though she knew the thought to be ridiculous. They had been married nearly a fortnight by now, after all. Still, they had yet to be intimate with each other, and the longer the delay the more difficult the prospect seemed. Still, shoving her concerns aside, she lifted her mug and took another long swallow.

"Thank you," she sighed, again meeting his gaze.

He nodded and they shared a companionable silence. In her estimation he looked tired but relaxed, unlike any time in the past due to his pressing schedules. Knowing that his concern was for her wellbeing, she nevertheless pondered his patient sitting while she drank the cure.

_Why does he not pack his things? _she wondered, glancing sideways at the disarray of their room. _What must he think of his new wife now,_ she pondered, _practically a drunkard by the next morning?_

"Is it helping?" he interrupted softly, drawing her attention once again. She gazed into the slight challenge which lit his eyes, detecting a sign of other emotions behind that. Could it be that he watched her somewhat guardedly? And was that a spark of longing beneath that?

"Yes, it is," she breathed softly, lowering the mug to her lap. _Was he waiting for something?_

As he continued studying her in silence she wondered if his encouragement to trust her had an added meaning. For a moment it seemed to her that he might want her to reach out to him in some way, and all fear of his judgment of her fled away.

"I am glad," he said softly, his eyes warming as he pulled his hand back to rest it upon his thigh.

She lifted her gaze from the place where his hand rested and smiled. "Have you used the same remedy yourself?"

He nodded, his eyes changing in hue and brightness. So compelling were they that she thought she could gaze into them for hours and never be bored.

"But you must drink the entire amount in order to have a lasting effect," he added, lifting a hand to massage the back of his neck.

"I see," she answered as she raised the mug to her lips. Her gaze was drawn to the movement of his arm and the bulge of his muscles beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Draining the contents, she lowered it and sighed in relief. "There—I've followed your instructions. My head does feel better already."

He lowered his hand to his thigh and smiled a bit tightly. "Good," he said somewhat hoarsely as he reached for the mug and turned, stretching out his arm to place it upon the table. When he turned back and glanced toward her hesitantly, she smiled.

"Thank you for bringing it to me, Jared."

He bowed his head very slightly, pursing his lips. "It is the least I can do."

At his silence the room seemed to shrink, and the mood between them felt suddenly strained. She thought he might be waiting for her to get up and start packing, but discarded the choice. Instead she smoothed her palms along the sheet, smoothing it around her legs.

"You always seem to know what is needed," she said truthfully, "and when."

His eyes darkened to grey as he seemed consider this. She watched his expression tighten, his brow furrow with doubt. "I wonder," he sighed, glancing down at her hands.

She pleaded in silence for him to say what he was thinking. When he did not, she tried to force it from him. "What do you mean" she whispered carefully.

At that moment the room brightened suddenly, as if a cloud had moved away from shielding the sun. She glanced toward the window, painfully aware that she was delaying their departure and he must be too much of a gentleman to admit it. Because of her they were losing more than half a day of travel, yet she longed to delay the obvious. Feeling the weight of his gaze she turned to look at him, finding his expression even more troubled.

"I'm afraid I do _not_ know what is needed," he confessed, his eyes searching hers. "Perhaps you might now guide us, in my stead."

Suddenly she realized why he hesitated, apparently caring nothing for their journey. Even more importantly he seemed to care nothing for conversation. As she held his gaze her memory began to return as if he willed it. Their argument revived in her mind, as did the passion of their kisses before he had once again pulled away.

"_You've had too much to drink, Aileen," _he'd insisted last night. _"This is not right, not for you, or for us…" _

Now, seeing the desire in his eyes she knew what she needed to do. With firm resolve she leaned toward him and placed her hands upon his arms. Rising to her knees she reached up to touch her lips to his cheek, then raised one hand to the base of his neck.

"Might I?" she whispered, her heart thudding at their closeness. She could smell the pleasant mixture of the outdoors in his hair that combined with his skin to form his own unique scent. His head turned, bringing his lips to within a hair's breadth of her. Cupping his jaw with her palm, she watched his gaze lower to her lips. Their breathing sounded soft but laboured in the silence, then his hands gripped her waist as if to steady her. She wound her hand around his neck, pulling him into her kiss. He froze as she kissed him once and gazed up into his eyes.

"I remember now," she breathed, sliding her fingers into the hair at the back of his collar. "I am sorry I had too much wine, Jared."

He swallowed with some difficulty. "It was not your fault—"

"I didn't listen to you—"

"Shhh," he whispered, reaching up to press a finger over her lips. This he traced along her lower lip, then over her cheek. She closed her eyes as he trailed it down her neck and along the low collar of her chemise. Reaching for his hand, she clasped it between her breasts and looked into his eyes.

"You said you would come later," she reminded him softly before she shifted backward toward the pillows. He let her tug his hand and slid along her side. Wrapping their arms around each other, they leaned back against the pillows and stared into each other's eyes.

"I was too tempted to—"

"—I'm sorry I fell asleep," she whispered.

He smiled stiffly. "So am I."

"But now that you've given me leave," she sighed, "I believe I know what is needed."

He held her loosely even as she pressed closer, slipping her foot between his shins. "By your leave, of course, Sir Knight."

He rested his head back, though his eyes seemed lit by a molten glow. She rose up above him, bending her head to kiss teasingly around his mouth. He groaned softly as he gripped her waist tighter.

"I believe you do," he choked before he pulled her down for a searing, hot kiss.

She sighed in triumph beneath his lips, slipping her hand inside his tunic and marveling at the heat and softness of his chest. She could feel the strength in his muscles and was suddenly hungrier for him that she'd ever felt. All care and thought for the day or the journey fled as they yielded to weeks of longing and separation. He watched her intently, letting her touch and kiss him until he suddenly switched positions and leveled himself over her, bending his head to kiss and taste her skin.

Without conscious thought or intent they pushed away all the barriers that had stood between them, yielding at last to the love that had grown steadily between them. Communing without words, they opened their hearts and minds to each other, exploring a universe of uncharted territory without looking or turning back. And in one ecstatic moment he brought their marriage in name only to a long awaited and welcomed end.

"_**I love you," she sighed, pressing her cheek against his bare chest.**_ He tightened his arms possessively around her, bending his head to taste her lips yet again.

"_Cariad,_" he whispered against them, feeling her shiver with pleasure in response. He lifted a hand and threaded it through the tresses of her hair, loving its fragrance and softness. Her scent captivating him and her response thrilled him. She gripped his shoulders and tilted her head back to gaze into his eyes. In that moment he thought he'd never seen a more beautiful woman, and he breathed a prayer of thanksgiving for having found her. Loving her had taken all his patience and strength, finally draining everything from him and yet filling him with peace and complete satisfaction. It was a heady but foreign experience, one he'd never experienced before. All the weeks which spanned their first meeting until now flew through his mind, and he had to admit he was glad that they'd waited to finally come together. All the fleeting touches and glances shared over time had grown into a fiery intense passion that burned even brighter after its kindling. And that, he knew, was a rare treasure indeed.

With a sigh of contentment he settled with her back into the comfortable softness of their bed, wrapped themselves around each other as the light in their room faded. Reaching out a hand to grip the blankets, he pulled them to their waists and settled on his side to study her. Her hair was spread everywhere, a tendril of it teasing her left breast. She tried to pull the covers higher but he caught her hand and smiled. She reddened with embarrassment, but gazed into his eyes with a mixture of contentment and disbelief. They heard the distant sounds of activity down in the street and the soft muffled rumble of thunder. Feeling sated and drowsy, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"What does it mean?" she asked, pulling her hand free only to trace one finger through the sprinkling of hair at the center of his chest.

"What does what mean?" he whispered, sliding his palm over her hip. They were still joined, and he did not want to release her.

"'Ca-ree-ahd?'" she said thoughtfully. "Is its meaning as beautiful as its sound?"

"Aye," he breathed, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. "It means 'beloved,'" he translated just before kissing the corner of her mouth.

She kissed him soundly, tightening her arms and pressing her length to his. He tasted the passion in her yet again, thrilled at her desire and praying he might somehow satisfy her once again. But she finished and decided she wanted no more, instead resting her cheek over his heart.

"May I call you that?" she said in a low, thick voice that teased his senses.

He slid his hand down her bare back, loving the softness of her skin. "You may call me anything you wish."

She lifted her head to gaze at him quizzically. "Anything?" she teased, her expression doubtful.

He shrugged. "I do confess to preferring 'My Lord Husband.'"

She slapped his chest playfully as she laughed. "How demeaning! _I _much prefer calling you by your given name."

He pulled her higher to kiss behind her ear "I rather like the weight of that title," he teased, smiling at the little shivers which made her tremble whenever he touched that spot.

"That tickles," she gasped, pulling away though her hands gripped his arms.

"Good," he growled, curling a hand around her neck to guide her closer. The press of her softness against his chest made him hunger for her yet again, and when he kissed her deeply she wound her arms around his neck with a contented sigh. The sound spoke volumes of knowledge to him, for he'd made it his mission to learn the language of her responses over the lifetime he anticipated sharing with her.

When at last they once again lay spent in each other's arms, she lifted her head and smiled in bewilderment at him. He felt pleasantly exhausted, and curled one hand beneath his pillow to raise his head upon it as he held her gaze.

"Is this normal?" she squeaked, stroking her hand down his abdomen.

He smiled contentedly. "I think not, cariad."

She nodded distractedly, her brow furrowed. "It feels too wonderful to be wrong," she mused.

He closed his eyes, his other hand kneading the back of her neck below the weight of her hair. "I agree."

"Jared…how do you know how?" she whispered, finally resting her head upon his shoulder. He felt the blankets drape high over his chest and smiled.

"The same way you know."

Her hand stopped its movement. "But I have never—"

"Nor have I," he interrupted, glancing down at her.

She looked up in surprise. "But you are a man, and fully a score and ten!"

He shrugged. "My advanced years have nothing to do with it."

"Then you have never—"

"Never before you, love."

She seemed confused. "I had assumed you'd done this before."

He grinned at her wolfishly. "Assumption is often the path that leads to misunderstanding."

She gripped his shoulders. "But I was so worried you might think me naïve and childish!"

His brows shot up. "Why would I think that­­—you are hardly a child, luv."

"But you seemed to know how I feel, and what I wanted—"

"Inspiration," he sighed, shoving his other hand beneath his pillow. To his delight she leaned over him, resting her arms upon his chest. Her pout signified she waited for an explanation and he sighed in resignation. "I have read a great deal on the subject," he admitted. "And used my imagination, with the help of the Holy Scriptures."

She gasped. "The Bible?"

He chuckled at her expression. "Therein lies a great deal of imagery concerning the intimate pleasures of marriage."

She shook her head. "Not in the sections I've read."

"I will show them to you, if you'd like."

She gaped at him. "How could I?"

"That is why there are included, for instruction and guidance."

"You _admit_ to searching the Scriptures for clues to lovemaking?"

"I do," he shrugged. "What better source could there be than that written by the one who designed us?"

She laughed delightedly, stretching up to kiss him. "And to think that your enemies and relatives think you prefer boys!"

He frowned at the reminder. "Apparently—they are free to think what they wish."

"Does it not bother you, Jared?"

"It does, but I consider their prejudices and decline defending myself further."

"The men in the woods," she proposed, looking up at him. "They mentioned you being at university, where they think you developed a fondness for boys!"

He nodded. "Those who have not studied take such positions in order to defend their own masculinity, I fear."

"So they are jealous of you!"

"They assume everyone who studies will enter the priesthood."

"But most knights do train _and_ study," she defended. "Will you tell me about your training, Jared?"

"Someday," he sighed, closing his eyes. With one hand he guided her head back to his shoulder. "We should sleep now."

"Good," she breathed, kissing his lips purposefully. He felt her rest her head back down as her arm stretched over his waist. "They don't know you at all," she sighed, "not like I do."

"God be praised for that," he agreed, yawning tiredly and finally yielding to his exhaustion with his arm around her.

_**Once they were well out of sight of the village she unfastened the collar of her tunic, **_her eyes fixed accusingly at Jared's back as he led the way up the steep trail. The heat had intensified since they left their room at the manor house that morning, and trickles of perspiration slid down the valley between her breasts with annoying frequency. Despite this he'd pressed them hard, resting only once in several hours and sharing little word or glance with her all day. Riding, which was normally unpleasant, was further complicated by the mild discomfort she felt from a night of making love with him. It was wonderful that they had finally and passionately consummated their marriage, but today she found his dark mood difficult to reconcile with the considerate and loving one he'd displayed before. Telling herself that this was merely a different role he must assume as knight and protector, she nevertheless could not help but long for the other Jared to reappear and banish this one.

Surely the threat of the journey pressed heavily upon him, she reasoned. To his credit he had warned her that the way would be dangerous as well as difficult. Upon their arrival at the stables he'd learned quite by accident that Llewellyn's men were still about, though he kept any reaction to that news hidden from the man who had taken care of their horses. They were recruiting more men, in the stableman's opinion, but she and Jared both knew that Llewellyn was looking for them. Now, with a sigh of resignation she forgave and forgot Jared's brusque manner, reminding herself that his brothers also traveled with Llewellyn. This would sour anyone's mood, she knew, and she wondered what Jared would do should they encounter his family. Were she in his position she would find it difficult to forgive them for the way in which they had betrayed him and left him to suffer.

As she allowed her gaze to travel over the firm set of his shoulders, she softened her heart and mind toward him, scolding herself for being a poor excuse of a wife. Father had warned her that Jared needed her support and love, and she purposed to act accordingly. Even if he did not encounter his brothers or Llewellyn, he still returned home to a place where he'd not been in a very long time. It was a place, she sensed, that was haunted with other painful memories concerning his mother, who now rested in eternity. Jared had not shared much of his past with her, but she was confident that as they grew closer he would someday do so. As to her own future in that place, she could only imagine what might await her as a foreigner.

Trying to keep her mind from these disquieting facts as well as her physical discomfort, she let her mind wander back to the night before, telling herself to be thankful for that brief island of time they had enjoyed. Jared had sacrificed an entire day just to concentrate upon their relationship, time they could scarcely afford. She was not only grateful for that, but thrilled with what had transpired quite unexpectedly. For though she'd known him to be a considerate and honourable man, she had come to know him as a patient and skillful lover, one who had caused her to experience breathtaking passion as well as the first stirrings of a deep and abiding love. By taking possession of her body he had also claimed her soul and spirit, and she knew that she would never be the same again. Before that night her admiration for him had centered upon his character, friendship and ability. Now she found that she understood and admired him as a man with a hidden but deep well of love and need. Even more thrilling, she believed that somehow she seemed to have helped satisfy that need, as he had satisfied hers.

"Aileen!" he called, startling her from her reverie.

She glanced up at the worried frown he wore, immediately straightening her posture. "Yes?"

His gaze narrowed upon her. "Where were you?"

She lifted her chin. "I was just thinking about something—"

"You must pay attention, or risk a precipitous fall," he lectured, his eyes piercing hers as if he could read her mind.

"I was," she answered tartly, wishing for the carefree and passionate lover she'd held in her arms earlier.

His frown deepened as he veered closer as they rode. "You suffer pain," he said with surprise and shock, his eyes burning into hers. "Why did you not say something?"

_He can read my mind!_ she realized as her colour rose. "I'm fine," she answered primly, averting her gaze.

His hand shot out and gripped her arm, though she knew he did not realize his strength. "We will rest—"

"No!" she huffed, her nerves on edge. "I said I'm fine—"

"Why did you not tell me?" he choked, his eyes filled with compassion and what looked like regret.

She shook off his hand. "It's not exactly an acceptable topic of conversation—"

"It is to me," he answered, pointing to the distant wood as he turned his mount. "We will discuss it and take a rest."

"It's nothing!" she choked, feeling foolish and strangely close to tears.

Ignoring her, he led them into the woods and pulled up, quickly dismounting and coming to her side. Hating the look of concern in his eyes that was coloured with guilt, she shook her head as he lifted his hands to help her down.

"I prefer to dismount on my own," she informed him.

"It's too high," he insisted, gripping her wrists.

She shook free. "I must learn to manage without your constant help," she insisted. "Now stand aside—"

"Aileen," he groaned, reaching forward to grip her waist.

She clenched his arms and complied, letting him help her down. Hitting the hard ground she tried not to grimace at the sudden pain, knowing instantly that he had detected it. Hanging her head, she felt his gloved hand nudge her chin up until she was forced to meet his gaze. Searching her eyes for a moment, he pulled her into his arms and held her.

After a moment's stiffness she surrendered, resting her forehead upon his chest and deciding he needed an explanation. "I didn't want you to worry—"

"I am worried—"

"or to feel guilty."

"I am guilty!" he insisted, cupping her cheek. His eyes were lit with tenderness and concern. "Had I realized you might suffer I—"

"What?" she choked, gripping his waist. "Delayed it yet again, Jared? Hadn't we delayed long enough? And you hardly meant it," she answered. "I for one am glad we finally did it!"

His brow furrowed as light lit his eyes. He chuckled and pulled her closer as she tried to disengage herself. "Let me go!"

"No," he sighed, holding her until she began to relax in his grip. "I am glad as well," he admitted.

She glanced up at him, starting to laugh at the guilty look in his expression. "You don't look glad."

"I am," he teased, dipping his head for a quick kiss. "But you are right, it could not be helped."

She swatted his chest. "You could have been smaller, or less hungry!"

"Smaller?" he choked. "And now that you mention it, you could be larger—"

"Stop that!" she hissed, glancing around to be sure no one was about. "What if someone heard—"

"Only the birds and bears might hear," he agreed, enfolding her once again in his embrace. "And I'm sorry I've been so distant—"

"And harsh," she corrected.

"And harsh—"

She sighed meaningfully. "I suppose I am growing accustomed to it—"

"In my concern for your safety I completely forgot the possibility that you might have suffered some ill effect—"

"It is not an ill effect!" she insisted, pulling away to climb back up upon her mare. Frustrated by the height of the saddle, she blushed when he came up behind her and gave her a boost.

She settled upon her mare with a huff. "That was rather embarrassing."

He smiled wolfishly. "I rather like helping you up," he stated, caressing her thigh with his gloved hand.

"You would see it that way," she shot back, a smile curling her lips. He did look quite engaging and very masculine in that moment.

"What man wouldn't?" he defended, whistling to his horse.

She shot him an accusatory glare. "I _am_ dressed like a boy—"

His eyes traveled slowly over her boy's tunic and pants. "You look lovely and tempting to me."

She lifted her chin. "We shall see the trouble you get yourself into with comments like that!"

"I won't once you start dressing like a woman," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "But you win! I will keep my distance and climb back up into the saddle—"

"Good!" she called after him as he turned. "Lead on, valiant warrior," she called after him. "But there had better be a hot bath and soft bed awaiting us at journey's end!"

He swung his leg over and lifted his reins, his eyes appreciating her boyish outfit. "I shall look forward to that a great deal—"

"Not for you, for _me_!" she said primly, following him back toward the trail.

He glanced at her doubtfully. "You're my wife and now share everything," he stated, one corner of his mouth tilted toward a smile. "Including a bath…"

She glared at him until she could imagine that in detail. Then, smiling herself, she decided she liked the idea. Though she still felt embarrassed by her own nakedness, he was not. And they had already shared so much more.

"I perceive you entertain some doubt," he suggested.

"A bath is a private matter," she emphasized, trying not to laugh at his grin. "And no place for a husband."

"You think so?" he said huskily, his eyes treasuring her. And with that he surged ahead and left her to consider the possibility that she no longer possessed anything remotely resembling privacy.

_c. 2009 by Christine Levitt_


	16. Chapter 16 Croes Yaacov

_**Chapter 16 Croes Yaacov**_

_**At the sight of the distant cliffs opposite them**_ Jared's heart began to pound. Scanning their unwelcoming façade, he swept his gaze downward to spy the edge of the hidden bay far below. Slowing their pace, he heard Aileen's soft gasp of surprise, for they had ridden for hours without seeing anything beyond the dense shelter of the forest. Unable to express the emotions swirling within him he continued leading the way as he tried to order his thoughts. Already the salty tang wafted toward them though he could not yet see the ocean beyond. A shiver tickled up his spine, but not due to the rapidly cooling day. He nevertheless stretched his shoulders hoping that Aileen had not noticed the change in him. He had to continually remind himself that he was no longer a man alone on a mission, free to act and go as he wished as had been his custom the past year or two. She would know it when his fear overwhelmed him, and he could not let her see that. But she was incredibly perceptive and intelligent, and he knew she watched him carefully. This entire journey had been a lesson in seeking to adapt himself to the change in his status and her welcome but unpredictable presence in his life.

Loping down the ridge as it stretched toward the bay, he glanced to his left just as the rim of the fiery red sun slipped below his line of sight below the granite ridge off to the west. A sense of foreboding teased his senses, but he shoved the dark memories curling toward him and concentrated on his need to be strong. Whatever faced them at their approach must be handled in as careful and courageous manner as he could manage, and so he continued his silent pleading to the Almighty to enable him to do so. They slipped into the deeper and hushed wood, the air enclosing them in a cocoon of expectation as they descended closer to sea level. Turning his head, he met her waiting gaze and caught his breath at the shy smile she offered him. His soul swelled with love for her, and he found strength in her warm and trusting eyes. He nodded in acknowledgement and quickly turned his attention back to the way before them.

It was a precipitous descent they faced, one he prayed to find intact after so many years. Careful attention must be paid to avoid slipping on the softer, less packed earth beneath the horses' hooves, as well as the many rocks and roots marking the path. More importantly he searched their surroundings for any signs of trespass despite the capable tenacity of the men who had ransomed him and allowed this journey to be made. Surely they guarded their own interests as well as his, and he was grateful for their loyalty, making a mental note to thank them in person. But for now he led them through the deepening gloom toward the sound of distant waters. Spying an overturned tree ahead, he reached over to pat the flank of his horse, easing off the reins to let it sense its own footing. Apparently the rains had washed out much of this side of the mountain, added to the swelling streams that had no doubt coursed over this route from the melting snows and spring rains. His horse side-stepped several large boulders, whinnying in frustration until he coaxed it onward, a soothing word of encouragement spoken close to its ear.

"Jared…" Aileen worried, her voice low with concern.

He turned to see her struggling with the same maneuver. "Let her feel her way," he advised, "she'll manage well enough."

"All right," she answered, her gaze on the rocks and roots twisting before them.

They continued toward the wide lagoon, finally easing onto the rocky shore and free of the tight clutch of the woods. He led them down the bank and into the shallow water, gazing out toward the open sea with thankful heart. Aileen rode up to his side, and after a moment pulled her attention from the dark blue sheen of the sea beyond the cliffs.

"It's beautiful Jared," she breathed happily, reaching out to touch his sleeve.

He smiled, admiring the fresh glow of her smile. "You've not yet seen the whole," he hinted, reaching up to take and squeeze her hand.

"This sight is well worth the hard ride," she sighed, threading her fingers through his as she gazed back out toward the water.

In that moment he felt an unexpected peace well up within him, along with the assurance that he was just where he was destined to be. For whatever awaited him and for whatever reason, he was coming home again. And gazing out at the slowly unfurling waves he realized how the sea had always drawn, intrigued and terrified him all at the same time. He could almost hear whispers of happier times within their incessant crashing against the rocks, and pictured himself as a boy running along these far reaching shores. The hours spent exploring and rejoicing over the natural beauty of the place lit his mind with memories he'd thought forgotten.

"What a wonderful place to grow up," Aileen sighed happily, as if able to read his thoughts. He eyed her appreciatively as she gestured toward the open water. "May we ride along the beach?"

"Not now, I'm afraid," he answered, nodding toward the waters swirling around them. "Tide's coming in."

She sobered a bit, looking disappointed but respectful of the power of the water. "Perhaps another time."

"When we have our first swimming lesson," he encouraged, pointing her attention toward the future and not the object of her fear of water.

Her expression brightened. "So soon?"

He released her hand and lifted the reins. "If it is at all possible." Gripping the pommel he nodded when Aileen did the same.

"Bant-a-ni," he ordered the stallion, and off he shot across the lagoon.

Despite the long day of riding the horses sped into the water as if eager for a run. Water splashed over and up around them, drenching their clothing. They rode into the full light of the sun, gazing overhead at the circling gulls and then out at the play of light upon the waves. For a few moments it seemed as if there was no other place or person in the world, just the two of them. But rounding the northernmost bend of the cliffs he slowed and kept close to the base of the mountain. It wasn't long before he spotted the river just ahead he further slowed their pace. As they neared the rushing water he stared up into the darkening trees and heights from which it poured. Reaching the deep cut of the bank he stopped and touched Aileen's arm, his eyes shifting in all directions. Sure that no sign of life was near, he reached for her hand.

"Come ride with me," he commanded softly, maneuvering his horse closer to hers. "We'll cross together here."

"I promise not to panic this time," she said quietly, her eyes belying concern as she studied his guarded expression.

"It's more dangerous that it looks," he said, slipping his arm around her waist and meeting her gaze. "Please."

Without another word she lifted her arm to encircle his upper back as he transferred her to his mount, positioning her behind him as he edged higher in the saddle. Feeling her arms clutch his waist, he turned to knot her mare's reins to his bag.

"Comfortable enough?"

"I'm fine," she answered, pressing against him as he glanced back at her hopeful expression.

"Hold on," he ordered before urging the stallion forward.

They descended into the roiling waters which reached to the horses' knee joints. The footing was slippery, and not a few times the stallion stumbled and whinnied. With necessary firmness he coaxed them across and up the opposite bank, scanning their surroundings once again as they left the beach and climbed back up the wooded slope. Ascending to nearly half the height from which they'd come he wound a path through the wood until he saw the outline of the boundary pillar of his cantreff, pulling to a halt before it.

Jared stared at the imposing monument, full realization of its meaning striking him hard. He felt. Aileen's hand smooth over his damp shirt until it settled over his heart. Lifting a hand to cover hers, he felt strengthened by her touch. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they stared at the carvings on the pillar.

"What is it, Jared?" she breathed softly.

He pursed his lips, unable to take his eyes from it. Dark memories and the echoes of cries filled his head, transporting him back to that fateful day. He could hear the echo of his mother's voice, calling his name.

"Jared?" Aileen repeated, her voice drowning out the others and forcing him to look at her. "Are you all right?" she asked for what seemed the second time.

"This is Croes Yaacov," he answered, shivering inwardly at the spoken name, "the boundary line of my cantreff."

She studied him a moment, her hand returning to his waist. "Then you are home."

He tilted his head to study her, seeing her in yet another perspective. "_We _are home," he choked, turning forward once again. Urging the stallion on, they passed the pillar without further notice as he focused upon the future. Up they climbed to the first level spot, where he stopped and began to untie the reins of her mare.

"We'll need to ride apart the rest of the way," he said soberly, speaking to her horse and thankful that it seemed to know what he meant. The mare eased closer and he took Aileen's arm until she climbed back into her own saddle. Handing her the reins, he then turned and led off, switching directions up the side of the mountain to ease the climb. Darkness descended upon them, though violet and pink colours gilded the clouds scudding overhead. They were gathering together, predicting rain. They hadn't much time…

_**He was caught in the past again, **_she thought as she studied the stiff set of his shoulders. Gone was the joy she'd seen in his expression as they rode through the water, as was his light hearted mood that had so excited her. Something had happened there at the place of the river, where the dark wood towered above its outflow into the sea. But she chose not ask him about it. Old fears for him pricked at the edge of her conscience but she willed them away, praying to set her hope in the unseen hand which had led them to each other and this path in life. Since their stay at the monastery she had followed Jared's example, using the canopy of wood and sky as her chapel in which to pray for guidance and protection. That was her husband's habit, for she'd caught him bowing his head or looking heavenward several times along the way before and since. His faith had coaxed life into hers, but she wondered how it might be expressed in daily life once they were settled and living together. Now, refusing to let his momentary lapse into a painful past cloud her own expectations about the future, she determined to be strong in the face of his weakness or trials.

_Be patient with love, _the whispers echoed through her thoughts. She studied her husband's tense expression and breathed out a soft sigh of resolve.

"I do love him," she whispered, releasing her convictions as one might release a carrier bird to fly off with a lifesaving message to deliver to him.

_Time has not yet healed what love can…_

As Jared turned his mount and rose above her on the trail, she followed behind, gazing up at him until their eyes met. In his eyes she caught a glimpse of pain before he shielded it from her view. He pursed his lips in determination.

"It is not much further," he encouraged before gazing up the unseen trail ahead.

"Good," she answered as emphatically as she could manage, given her tiredness. "I long for that bath, husband."

Abruptly he turned his head and stared back at her, now that she'd mounted to the same level. When the shock wore off his expression relaxed, then one corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

"As do I," he admitted, his voice rough with exhaustion and grit. His eyes lit with the flicker of desire, but also longing.

"I've decided to share, but only this time," she stated primly, "given the circumstances."

He bowed his head as a dutiful servant might. "I shall draw it myself, milady."

"And only after I've finished," she added, shrugging as his eager expression faded.

"Perhaps you'll allow me to rinse your hair," he offered somewhat stonily, "just to hurry the process along for my own."

"Perhaps," she nodded as he turned back forward, allowing her to smile with sudden inspiration and curl an impish smile toward his ramrod stiff back.

_I think I know just how to free you from your dark and gloomy moods, milord… _

_**Twilight crept toward them from the surrounding dunes, **_yet off in the distance he could see a faint light. Dark shadows encased it, but the outline of the house was there, just as he remembered it. Nestled into the cleft of woods above the rise of dune and grass it stood, the small stable crouching by its eastern side and the coop behind that. Guarding it from above were the silent evergreens that seemed to hold their breath in anticipation, though perhaps they were bracing for the next storm sure to rush in from the north. His childhood home kept vigil over the northeastern tip of his cantreff and country, its only companion being the twinkle of the distant lighthouse of the opposite shore. His heart yearned for the lost past when he would climb these dunes and woods, taking comfort in their embrace as only a child alone with an elderly mother could. His mother had long since been denied the love of her life by the time he could read, his father having died fighting in a distant battle of which she had rarely spoken, and never in detail. He was five years of age when they'd been sent the news, and grew up under the veil of their silent but shared grief. His only solace was that she had not lived to see the day when he went off to train for the same occupation. And now he was home.

As they drew nearer Aileen rode up to his side, and at her silent regard he was filled with remorse for what it had taken for them to reach this place. It had been a long, trying and dangerous journey, but they had made it somehow. And he owed her.

"Looks like someone expected us," he said tiredly, studying her weary and cautious expression in the dim light of evening. Her brows lifted with her hopes, he judged.

"We are expected?" she croaked, her voice hoarse with dryness.

He nodded toward the lantern which stood burning low at the only window on the first floor. "That would be Elda," he informed her, "my mother's younger sister."

She had turned her head to study the small house eagerly. "Someone lives here?" she said softly, turning to look at him as if he'd kept a great secret from her.

"No, but close enough to tend to things," he stated, gazing toward the light. "Though my concern is how she must have learned of our coming, and from whom."

"The scarred man in the forest?" she prompted, looking even more uneasy as she glanced back at the house.

"I doubt it," he sighed, riding up to the steps of the porch, "more likely from those who ransomed me."

"Jared, you had better start informing me of the details concerning—"

"I will," he interrupted, sliding from the saddle to stretch his back before reaching up for her. "In due time—now come."

She accepted his help by gripping his shoulders as he grasped her waist and helped her down. When her feet touched the ground she slumped a bit, necessitating his aid in helping her steady herself. Her fingers dug into his forearms as she looked up at him, found her balance and ran a hand back through the loose hair that had escaped her long braid. "Thank you—"

"Welcome home," he whispered, lifting her abruptly despite her protests. Carrying her to the porch, he set her down upon the planks but kept his hands at her waist. All her protests died and they stood panting at each other, their faces a dim glow in the soft orangey light from the lantern.

She tightened her grip upon his arms and he was sorely tempted to kiss her, but there was much to do and they were both exhausted. Instead he took a step back, dropping his hands and nodding toward the horses.

"I'll see them to bed while you explore—"

"I'm coming with you," she interrupted, following him toward the opposite end of the porch as he shook his head.

"You'll need to open it up, for the heat will be caught inside," he lectured, leading both horses toward the stable. "Perhaps you'll find something we might eat."

"Of course," she agreed, wringing her hands as her eyes followed him. At the entrance to the stable he paused, watching her carefully. But then she turned and went to the door, opened it cautiously and then stepped inside. He waited, then heard her call out. "It's fine—but hot…"

Chuckling to himself, he realized his little wife might be a bit frightened of the dark, as well as the water. At least here in a strange place…

_**Aileen wiped her moist brow and puffed a breath upward toward it **_as she surveyed her few accomplishments with some degree of satisfaction. She had opened all the windows, six in number on both levels, leaving the grated bars locked against potential intruders. It was a small but solidly built house, furnished with surprising comfort considering its lonely address. Everything seemed to be in order, an amazing fact considering no one had lived here for nearly a decade. At least not to her knowledge. And who was the Elda, she wondered as she set out the food simmering upon the hearth and filling the little home with a delicious aroma. It was stew and freshly baked bread, as well as wrapped cheese and summer fruit. Her stomach growled as she worked, wondering what was taking Jared so long. She had already changed into her only plain gown, leaving off the bliaut and letting her hair down. In the small wardrobe there were some women's clothes, which she greatly appreciated but found too large for her frame. But they would have to do until she was able to launder their clothing. And as she searched the buttery lying adjacent to the small kitchen area she found another door which led to an even smaller closet—in which stood a tub and commode. And at that moment she heard steps upon the porch and jumped in surprise. As the door opened with a squeak she entered the tiny parlor and stood at attention as he entered and closed it behind him.

His eyes shot to her as he dropped the latch and turned to face her, lifting a wrist to backhand his forehead. The light was low but adequate, and she saw the longing in his expression as he dropped their bags and approached her. She stepped back and spread out her arm, indicating the meal set out for them. After a moment he pulled his gaze from her and with a sigh nodded, pulling out one of the chairs for her.

"Milady," he said wearily, waiting until she was seated before finding his own place directly across from her. "Thank you," he said, reaching for her hand. She gripped his, waiting for what he seemed to be deciding to say to her.

"Someone went through a lot of trouble to leave this for us," she said softly, watching him cup her hand between his much larger ones.

"Then we must give thanks for that as well," he indicated, freeing one hand to reach for the wine she had already poured. He waited until she lifted her as he did, then closed his eyes and drew a tired breath. What followed was a dutifully pronounced yet foreign statement, only a few lines were it to have somehow been written down. And then he translated it for her:

"_Blessed art Thou, O L-ORD our God, King of the Universe, who brings forth fruit from the vine.._

He then took a sip, as did she, and picked up a piece of the bread before continuing:

"_Blessed art Thou, O L-ORD our God, King of the Universe, who brings forth bread from the earth…amein."_

Following his lead, she bit into the bread, which tasted like the most delicious bread this side of heaven. They chewed and swallowed, their eyes upon each other. His mouth turned up at the corners as he slid the plate of cheese toward her. They ate quickly with little comment, both realizing how late the hour was and how tired they were. She thought longingly of the bath but there was hardly time to heat one, though she longed for a warm soak to soothe her tired limbs. When he pushed back after only one bowl of stew, one piece of bread and three chunks of cheese, she did the same, feeling inordinately filled though they had not eaten much.

"Are you ready for that bath?" he asked matter of factly, startling her.

She shook her head, holding up a hand. "You've worked so hard grooming and settling the animals, I can just use the basin—"

"Not tonight," he interrupted, rising stiffly and holding out his hand. "One has already been readied, I believe. We will just need toweling to take with us."

"But surely your relative is not waiting—"

"Shhh," he whispered, a finger over his lips. "We must take great care not to alert anyone's suspicions. Wait here."

He took the stairs faster than she'd expected, descending quickly with a bag stuffed with what looked like clothing and linens. Going to the door, he unlatched it and gestured toward the lantern. "Let's take some light along," he said, stepping aside for her to precede him.

"How far must we walk to her house?" she said not too far from a pout as she lifted the lantern and stepped outside. They did need to collect water from somewhere, that much was clear, and such a task was beyond her strength or his, it seemed.

"You shall see," he whispered, closing the door behind them. He led the way past the stables, where they heard the horses munching something.

"Are you going to tell me something about this relative of yours _before_ I meet her?" she wanted to know.

"Of course," he said softly, "it is just beyond that grove of trees.

She followed him wearily, hoping he had put some of the women's clothes in that bag he clutched over his arm. His hand upon her arm steadied her when she could not see the way clearly, despite the lantern. As they drew near to the grove she heard the sound of water but saw no sign of house or building. When he took the lantern from her she slowed her steps, watching him circle a rock-hewn area in apparent search for something.

"Ah, here it is," he declared just above a whisper, looking up as he set the lantern down. "As promised, milady's bath."

She stared at him in the dim light, realizing that it was a pool of water, the scent of which was not all that pleasant. Cringing at what might occupy such a watery home, she crossed her arms and watched him arrange lantern and bag before setting his hands to the laces of his tunic. He looked up.

"Come, then—it's not as hot as it seems."

"Jared—what kind of bath is this? The smell—"

"A hot spring," he explained, smiling at her bemused expression. "I promise you, you will find it something difficult to resist."

"Bathe in that?" she croaked, drawing closer. It was not a very large pool, but perhaps big enough for one at a time. But she did feel incredibly filthy and dusty. Yet to undress out in the open—

"No one is within sight," he promised her, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. "I know you want to wash off all that dirt, Aileen."

"While you watch?" she squeaked, coming reluctantly to his side.

He sat down to pull off his boots. "Is it not dark enough for you?" he teased, tossing aside one.

"Turn your back then," she ordered, touching his shoulder to balance herself as she lifted her foot and shook off her boot. It felt wonderful to free her feet from its confines.

"All right," he agreed with a sigh, "if you insist."

"I do," she said primly, watching him turn upon the rock on which he sat. He drew up his knees and braced his arms around them, whistling softly between his teeth. She covered her mouth to keep from laughing, quickly stripping down to her chemise before she touched her toe to the water.

"It's hot!" she squeaked, immediately stepping in and sitting down. Her chemise floated up around her, but she shoved at the fabric to keep it down. "This is wonderful!"

He turned his head, then his body to face her. His eyes followed her every move, though he reached to lower the lantern to its dimmest glow. "I am glad you like it."

"You knew about this all the time!" she accused with a grin, splashing water at him.

He ducked, then stood to begin unlacing his chausses. "I did—now nudge aside so I can join you."

She averted her face as he began to pull down his clothing, blushing into the darkness. "I suppose we will save time and effort this way," she said sheepishly, lifting a handful of sand from the bottom of the pool to scrub herself. As he took care for his footing she slipped her hand beneath her chemise and quickly scrubbed herself so that he would not see.

His body was pale in the darkness, but her eyes were adjusting to the light. When he settled close by her side and began washing himself, she found she could no longer look away. Absently scrubbing her hair with a branch of evergreen, she watched him expertly and quickly wash himself, his eyes upon her.

"I believe, with time, you will prefer this to anything the civilized world may offer," he announced quietly, his words hinting at a slight accent she had not noticed before except when he spoke in his own tongue.

"It is rather primitive, but enjoyable," she agreed, feeling his hand move into her wet hair at the back of her neck. He massaged it as she continued scooping the delicious warm water over herself, daring to reach up and run a bit of sand into his hair as well. He obediently tipped his head back and let her, thrilling her with his response to her touch. She felt suddenly powerful and in command. After a moment he handed her a mug and she laughed, scooping up water and using it to rinse his hair. He followed by doing her the same favour, then began helping her finger comb its long tresses.

Their legs tangled beneath the surface of the water as he turned back to face her after letting her gently scrub her back. There was no need for words, and the only sound was the faint chirp of crickets and the distant rumble of the surf. Fireflies danced among the wildflowers across the field and stars above were more and more obscured by the gathering clouds.

"This is lovely here," she sighed, pleased that he let her touch the marred skin of his back from the scars which marred its warm strength.

"Aye, it is," he sighed, his hands in her hair as she poured water over his shoulder. "As are you…"

His hands slowed and stopped at the back of her neck as she stared into his eyes, the moment suddenly halting between them. Wishing she could see into their depths, she reached up tentatively to touch his cheek. It was prickly from his whiskers, but she stroked her thumb gently across it, watching his expression tighten. His hands tightened at the base of her neck and then he tilted his head, pressing his lips to hers with a soft groan of satisfaction. Gripped his shoulders, she stretched toward him, hungry for he delicious power of his kiss and telling him with her own that she loved him. His arms slipped around her and she was drawn closer, his kisses more demanding before he pulled away to whisper her name. His desire caused a fire to ignite within her, and she gripped him like a lifeline as she kissed him back. Then he pulled her up and over his lap as they became one once again, greedy to share everything they had in a delirious give and take. The water bathed them in its cleansing warmth and when Jared pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face against her neck she clung to him as if to never let him go. He labored to catch his breath, then lifted his head to kiss her deeply, his lips molding hers until he tore himself away.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips, his hand cupping her cheek. He kissed her tenderly then as she leaned back against the warm rock, her wet chemise twisted at an odd angle. Kissing him back, she tugged at it impatiently until he pulled back and helped her.

"I don't know why I kept that on," she panted, struggling until he helped her peel it off.

With a growl of pleasure he tugged her back into his arms, pressing her against his bare chest as he kissed her soundly. "I believe we've passed the threshold of modesty," he panted, laughing with a gasp of a whisper.

"You passed it long before I," she giggled, kissing him as she felt something bump her knee. With a screech she clutched his shoulders and tried to climb up him to escape whatever it was.

"Jared—what was that?" she choked as he spread his hand through the water. "A turtle? A snake?" she screeched without voice.

He slowly lifted the creature before her until she could discern its identity. "A mug," he drawled, reaching past her shoulder to set it upon the rock. "Hateful creature," he mumbled, leaning back against the side of the pool.

"Well it could have been," she reasoned, sliding her hand across his chest until he caught it in his. Lifting it to kiss her fingertips, he smiled wickedly.

"Take care, milady," he said throatily, "your touch might unleash a more fearsome beast."

She stared into his grin and croaked in outrage, snatching her hand from his as he laughed, watching her reach for her wet chemise to shield her as she climbed out. "You are a beast."

"But you like animals," he reasoned lazily, watching her bend and rummage through the bag.

She stopped and gazed up at him. "Turn around!" she hissed, lifting the bag as if to cover herself.

He spread his arms wide. "Do you think I've not seen anything—"

"No!" she hissed, bending low to pull a large tunic over her head. "You haven't seen all—"

He pulled away from the rock and rose up, streaming with water. "Then we shall have to remedy that—"

"Oh no you—Jared!" she screeched, laughing when he snatched the bag away. Dropping it between them, he wrapped a towel around his hips and planted both hands there, watching her tug down the shirt which was surely his. It reached to her knees when she stood to flick her hair to one side.

"By morning we shall be happy to gaze at each other in the light," he predicted, reaching out for her hand. She stuffed her dirty clothes into its recesses, atop his, and reached up to wrap her hair in the towel.

"Is that so?" she mused, watching him pick up the lantern. "You're sure of that?"

"I am," he agreed, walking around to meet her and starting back toward the house. "I've made it my quest."

She stared at him as they walked, then burst out laughing, covering her mouth. "Your _quest?"_ she gulped, shaking her head.

"No more," he whispered, a finger to his lips. "First we must sneak back without waking the horses. They need their rest."

She put her hand in his, looking up at him. "What of our rest, then?"

He lifted her hand to kiss her fingertips, smiling down at her. "That too, but without any thread of clothing or sheet between us," he promised. "Just you in my arms."

_c. 2009 by Christine Levitt _


	17. Chapter 17 The Dream

_**Chapter 17 The Dream NOTE: The chapter 17 just posted was the incorrect one; **_

_**Please forgive the mistake—I've had computer problems **_

_**THIS IS THE CORRECT CHAPTER and hopefully makes sense **__****___

_**Swirls of mist hung suspended over the darkening waters**_, their white plumes trailing like ghostly fingers along the surface. Shouting filled the forests as the crowd gathered to witness the spectacle. _It had finally come,_ he realized with griefstricken clarity, the thing which he'd most feared and dreaded. Plunging into the cold water he thrashed wildly through the rushes, desperate to see any sign of her. Calling for her, he barely recognized the hoarse croak of a scream which tore up his throat, strangled by fear. Off in the distance thunder rolled, heralding a burst of rain that could not discourage the crowd. They were dashing into the water along the opposite shore, their taunts echoing toward him. Spreading the thick stalks aside he saw a flash of white, then a bare arm rising above the dark water's surface. He saw her caught in the current, her head bobbing up as she floated faster away from him as well as the mob. Breaking from his hiding place he waded toward her despite the unstable river bottom beneath his feet.

"Mother!" he cried as her head slipped beneath the water. Sobbing with grief he watched her fight for her life, surging upward again with a faint cry for help. Her pale face was twisted in pain , then suddenly a volley of stones pelted the water around her. Some sailed toward him, driving him back under cover. Still he waded after her until he stumbled, his ankle striking something hard as he scrambled for footing. Grabbing the reeds, he pulled himself along until h spotted her again, but this time she floated facedown like a limp broken doll, arms spread wide to the waters. He croaked in horror at the sight of her inky black spreading around her in the water.

Helpless and shivering, he gripped the branches of a fallen tree, all too aware that they were looking for him as well. Dropping low into the water, he hid beneath the gnarled limbs searching the waters until once again he saw her. Only this time she was floating face up, but to his horror it was not his mother. Choking back a denial, he studied not his mother's face but Aileen's as a scream tore up his throat. Thrashing in protest he awoke sweating and breathing hard as hands pushed at his shoulders.

"Jared—wake up!" she ordered, trying to hold him down. Struggling against her until he came fully awake he realized what he was doing and froze. He stared in confusion at her tousled hair and wide eyes.

"It's not real!" she panted, "it's only a dream!"

Slowly easing his grip on her arms, he tried to shake the horrifying image of her lifeless face from his mind. "What—?" he gasped, trying to sit up as she pushed against him, effectively holding him down. "What happened?"

"You had a bad dream!" she croaked, shoving at his shoulders until he dropped his head back to the pillow. Staring at her in embarrassment, he watched her sit back and hug herself as she studied him warily.

"Did I—hurt you?" he asked hoarsely.

"No—you frightened me."

Realizing that she had discovered his weakness, he turned from the questions in her eyes and tried to collect his thoughts. He'd not had the nightmare for years, and its sudden reappearance startled him. Aware of the lengthening silence between them, he faced the fact that owed her an explanation.

"What did you dream?" she demanded shakily, her hand gripping his shoulder.

"It was nothing," he said, turning to face her, "only a dream, as you said."

"Nothing," she repeated skeptically as she pinned him with her gaze. "I never thought I would see you fear—"

"I've had it before," he interrupted as he pulled himself higher against the pillows. "I am better now."

"That was not just a dream­," she accused; "you were _in_ another time and place."

"Surely you have dreams yourself," he stated casually. "Go back to sleep."

"Not dreams like that! You were sweating and tossing, and your cries were painful to hear—"

"Don't fret over me, Aileen."

"I'm not fretting!" she argued.

"You are—now try to get some sleep. I'm sorry I awakened you."

He turned on his side, his back to her, and punched the pillow beneath his neck. Heaving a sigh of relief, he considered the matter closed.

"I want you to tell me about it."

He stiffened, then turned is head to see her still sitting up, her arms wrapped around her updrawn knees. "Otherwise you might slip right back into it."

"I'm fine," he soothed, forcing a smile he did not feel. "Try to forget it even happened."

"Can you?"

He shrugged. "I've had it before."

"Not since you've known me?" she wanted to know.

"No," he sighed, turning to his back to study her. "Not for many years," he admitted, eyeing her meaningfully.

"Yet now it has risen again."

He studied her lovely face, feeling guilty for having thus disturbed her rest. "Come," he ordered softly, holding out his arm. She moved beneath it and rested her cheek upon his bare chest.

"What caused it to recur?" she asked gently, resting her fingertips alongside his neck.

He sighed in frustration. "You'll not settle down until you've got whatever it is you seek?"

"No, I won't," she admitted, smiling shyly up t him.

He nudged his head back into the pillow, tightening his arm around her. "It must be this place," he thought aloud.

"What is it, Jared?" she asked in a small voice. "What happened here, to torment you so?"

He glanced down at her face. "The telling will not exorcise it," he warned her.

"I must know."

"It is in the past—"

"Jared, I am your wife," she emphasized, softening the demand by resting her head over his chest. "And I _am_ a good listener."

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Yes, you are," he whispered as she slid her arm over his waist.

"What happened at the river?" she guessed, and he realized how discerning she was.

He closed his eyes in pain, still seeing the vestiges of the dream. "My mother drowned there, many years ago."

"How?"

"It doesn't matter—twas a long time ago."

"But still you dream of it."

"Dreams are the mind's way of solving problems."

She lifted her head, causing him to look up at her. "But if you do not share it with me, you trap me in it as well."

He stared at her in surprise, finding it difficult to argue with her logic. Yet how could he share the fact that it was also her face that he saw?

"Do I not deserve to know of your past?" she challenged.

"Tis not a pleasant tale, Aileen."

"I am hardly a child, Jared."

"It's not that—"

"And I have my own fears—"

"It's not the fear!" he tried to explain, still gripped by the prophetic nature of the dream. _Dear God, I cannot lose Aileen!_

"You think me too foolish to understand?"

He pursed his lips in frustration. "Of course not!"

She sat up. "Then tell me!"

Irritated, he sat up and massaged the back of his neck.

"Jared!" she warned, sitting up as well.

"I can see there'll be no rest," he concluded, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"The day calls," he explained, getting to his feet.

"But I deserve to know!" she argued, grasping the blankets to her breasts when he turned to look her in the eye. For some reason her gesture of modesty annoyed him.

He pursed his lips. "We've much to do this day—"

"Why will you not tell me—"

"Enough!" he ordered, pulling up his breeches. "Another time, Aileen."

"Why will you not tell me about your mother—"

"I cannot think about that now," he said tersely, sitting down to pull on his boots.

As he did the mattress shifted and he was aware of her rising to tie her wrap around herself as she stormed toward the dressing screen.

"Fine!" she grumbled, disappearing behind it. "We'll get dressed and pretend it never happened!"

He rose and with sinking heart watched the garment fly over the top of the screen. "Aileen—"

"I cannot believe my own husband refuses to share such an important story—"

"I will," he insisted, walking toward the screen. "Just not now—"

Her night rail flew over the screen and hit him in the face. "I thought we were close enough to share everything," she complained, her voice shaky.

"Will you truly let a dream spoil the day?" he reasoned, pulling it from his neck.

She stalked out from behind the screen and headed for the parlor. She was dressed in a plain green gown, the back of which gaped open. "If you insist," she called back with a saucy tone.

He followed her out to the counter. "I will not play this game," he warned, his attention lured by the soft expanse of skin on her upper back. Telling himself to fasten it for her, he chose instead to stand watching her wrap biscuits in a napkin.

"It is not a game!" she pouted, adding a cube of cheese to the covered basket. "I want to know what kind of husband keeps secrets from his wife!"

"I have no 'secrets'—we cannot let this come between us, Aileen!"

She glanced up at him as she worked to pack a lunch for them. "What do I really know about you?" she said more to herself before she picked it up and strode past him. "Why nothing at all!"

He followed at her heel and stopped to glance toward the stable. "I must feed the horses—"

"Then I shall see you at the beach!" she called over one shoulder, her steps quick and light.

He started toward the barn. "I will not be long!" he called, pleased by the ring of authority his boots made upon the planks of the porch.

"What a _beautiful _day!" she sang back, lifting her arm toward the heavens as if happy to be free of his company.

"It is that!" he agreed, turning at the entrance to the stables. "Take care, milady! Tis easy to get lost along the way!"

"I look forward to the walk, and some much welcomed _peace_!" she called back just before she disappeared around the bend in the path.

He stood watching her, feeling his heart sink inside his chest. Overhead the sun blazed hot already, an unseasonably warm day for late summer. It was perfect weather for the swimming lesson they'd planned. Despite this he entered the barn and peered into the stalls, feeling exhausted and dark in mood.

"Morning' mates," he greeted the horses, telling himself to find a way to redeem the day. Reaching for the sack he yanked it open and prepared to feed them. Once they had eaten he planned to ride bareback and lead her mare along for some grazing upon the dunes. It would be good for them to enjoy their leisure. Perhaps once he and Aileen realized the pettiness of their argument he would grant her request and then teach her to swim.

Filling the pans with oats, he set them before the hungry animals and took up a grooming brush. With long strokes he groomed her mare first, his mind set upon his newly tempestuous wife. The spectre of the dream clung to him, threatening to further unsettle him. Focusing his mind upon the scriptures, he meditated upon the promises found therein for long life and the protection of the covenants. But she was right, he did owe her an explanation and would do his best to provide it.

"Perhaps once she learns of my past," he told her mare, "she will understand my reluctance to share it."

_**They continued at a stalemate all morning and into the noontime,**_ forcing Jared to accept the fact that his new bride had a streak of stubbornness in her. Though pleasantly polite, she held her tongue, offering her silent disapproval for most of the time they spent together. Deciding to ignore her treatment of him, he instead launched upon a monologue explaining all the details of her new home, providing pertinent information and warnings of the possible dangers from beast or weather which might present themselves. To this she responded with only the simplest of replies or questions for clarification. The subject of his family remained decidedly absent.

He had noted with some hope the tiny smile of pleasure which greeted the horses when he'd arrived with them, and she took care to walk by his side with them as they grazed upon the dunes. He reached for her hand a few times but she turned away, her expression troubled though she offered no explanation or opinion. They eventually wandered back down to the beach and spread their simple lunch upon the blanket he'd brought along. Throughout its duration she remained aloof and when finished stood abruptly, pulled off her gown and to his surprise and without so much as a "by your leave" strode off wearing only her thin chemise. He shot to his feet and planted his hands upon his hips, watching her head toward a mockingly calm sea. With a groan of frustration he quickly stripped to his braies and followed her into the water, diving past her and swimming off some distance away while she waded knee deep in the water. He swam until his muscles ached and his lungs pained, then side stroked back to her side to stand in the gentle waves. And then she agreed to let him teach her how to swim.

To the casual passerby their lesson appeared businesslike in nature, carried out between two virtual strangers despite their polite and reserved interaction. He was tempted to draw her into his arms but thought better of it, and dared nothing more than a helping hand or guiding touch. Her dress and graceful movements caused him to grow frustrated with the interaction, but his simplest kiss upon her cheek was met with prudish rebuff. By the time she was swimming on her own and perfecting two basic strokes he was completely drained.

Returning to their discarded clothing he accepted her prim thanks with a gruff reply and sank down to the blanket to sit watching her finger comb her hair. To him she had presented her back without apparently realizing how she allowed him the opportunity to covertly study the sweet curve of her neck and shoulder. He let his appreciative gaze travel over her lovely form, mentally admitting that she was an apt student and quick learner. After only an hour of practice they left the water with the shared knowledge that she could handle herself with confidence in the water, thus easing his mind considerably. When his dream crept to the edge of his mind he forced himself to determine her safe for entering the waters surrounding his lands. He told himself that his mother had never learned to swim, which was way his uncle insisted he learn, and why he'd now insisted Aileen learn as well. So it was with a deep sigh as he leaned his arms upon his raised knees that he finally gave her what she wanted.

"I dreamt of the night my mother drowned," he began, steeling himself from the painful memories. He was aware that she stiffened at his side and dropped her hands to her lap. "It was a stormy night, and the tide was coming in. She could not swim, and once the current took her she was washed out to sea. We never found her body," he sighed. "I can still see her body floating lifelessly away, out of my reach."

He heard a soft sound escape her, and when he turned his head their eyes met. In her warm gaze he saw grief, understanding and compassion. But the love shining in her eyes shook him to his core. He turned from it to once again gaze out over the ocean. The tide was nudging the shoreline; above it the sun dipped low toward a watery horizon.

"She saw things not a part of this realm," he continued. The words left him with a shudder of grief as he remembered all they represented. "Sometimes when we would be walking or spending a quiet evening alone she would become distracted and gaze off; after a time I realized that it was because she was seeing into the spiritual realm. I began to recognize the exact moment when it would happen. Then she would look back at me and smile, and it would be as if it never happened. "

When he'd grown older, and especially after he'd gone off to war he had understood her more completely, having experienced the same thing himself. But Aileen did not need to know that, at least not now.

"Those who knew her called her a prophetess," he continued; "those who did not, a witch. She was different, though as one would be, having traveled the border between this life and the next. Over time people mocked and despised her for the gift, and also for her Jewishness. When my father was killed she retreated more and more into that realm for comfort. When I was eight years old we went to the village for supplies, and there she met the man who would become my step-father. He began to court her, for though gifted she was beautiful and sweet. They were married and we moved to the summer home he'd purchased just outside the village. Those were happier days, and for a time she seemed to find her place in his world.

"Then things grew difficult for our people, and word came to us that her parents had been slaughtered in a pogrom. Everything changed then, and when he and the other men went hunting they came for her. We were helpless and isolated from my aunt and uncle. She took me and fled, but they hunted us down like animals. At the boundary line she parted from me and told me to hide, but when I saw them drag her to the river I followed. It was there that they began to throw stones."

Aileen covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh Jared…" she whispered, closing her eyes.

"I was terrified, but I could not leave her. The rains and melting snow had swollen the river, and when I begged them to stop they threw stones at me. One knocked me down and they no longer concerned themselves with me. I hid among the rushes and watched what they did to her," he admitted, shaking his head in frustration. "She would not have wanted me to die with her, so I stayed hidden. My step-father returned and went to the officials, but because her body was never found the matter was left unsettled. Although we sought hard after justice, it was never found."

"Dear God," she whispered, looking at him in horror. "How could anyone be so cruel? Did no one come to your aid?"

"When my stepfather returned we filed charges, but to no avail. I was a child, and the only witness. Within a few days he sold his home and we prepared to leave. He refused to go to my mother's house—he'd never been there once. My aunt and uncle came to see me once, and told me that they would watch the house until the day I returned. But I never thought I could return again."

"But you did, one day."

"Yes," he breathed, his eyes upon the blazing sunset. "None of them know the way to this place," he told her. "Not even my stepfather. And my Aunt Elda and Uncle Jon guard it with their lives."

"I can understand why; were they away, when this happened?"

He nodded. "They joined the hunt with their son. Had I not been recovering from an illness, Mother and I would have been with them."

She reached out to touch his arm and after a moment shifted to his side. Together they sat looking out at the play of light upon the water. After some time he looked at her. "It's time we return."

"Thank you," she said gently, looking at him, "for telling me."

He rose and together they finished dressing and gathering their things. He whistled for the horses and they rode bareback up the trail to the house. She told him she would set supper out while he settled the horses for the night.

When he finally latched the door behind himself she came to him and slipped her arms around him, holding him close. "I'm sorry," she whispered into his shirtfront.

He tightened his arms around her. "Forgive me."

She wiped at her eye and served them a light meal of soup and bread. Retiring early, they comforted themselves by making love before falling asleep in each others' arms.

_**Aileen awoke and stretched, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. **_One glance at her sleeping husband told her not to disturb him, so she quietly slipped from the bed and padded out to put on the pot to boil. Lifting the lid of the pail she stared at the depleted water and turned to fetch more from the well. Unlatching the lock she pulled open the door, stepping back at the cold breeze that hit her face, making her shiver and grasp the neckline of her wrap closer. Apparently there had been a shift in the weather, and the crisp scent of leaves and wood smoke teased her nostrils.

"Is Jared awake?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, jumping and laying a hand over her heart as she turned to her right. A thin woman stood at the edge of the porch, wearing a quizzical smile beneath her old faded hat. Her piercing gray eyes stared at Aileen as her brows lifted. Aileen backed into the threshold, too startled to speak.

_Could this be Jared's aunt? _she wondered, telling herself it had better be.

"I'm Elda," the woman stated, taking a step toward her.

"Aileen," she croaked in response, trying not to stare but unable to stop. The woman was about her father's age, but vitality exuded from her presence as if she were a much younger woman. "Please," she whispered, backing into the parlor as the woman slowly followed her lead, "come in?"

Absently setting the pail on the table just inside, Aileen felt herself redden as Elda peered past her toward the open door of the bedchamber. From where they stood they could see Jared's dark head turned away, one bare arm stretched over the blanket and various discarded articles of both their clothing laying scattered upon the floor and foot of the bed.

Aileen watched her keen gaze take in his condition before a ghost of a smile lifted her lips. She nodded toward the porch, where they both retreated. Aileen closed the door between them.

"I'm sorry you had—"

"It's good to see him getting his rest," Elda said softly with a nod of approval. "And apparently a good dose of loving as well."

Aileen nearly choked in embarrassment, swallowing the lump in her throat as she forced a bright smile. "It is very good to meet you," she said breezily.

Elda tilted her head to one side, studying her frankly. "You are _not_ Roanna," she stated.  
whom I've heard is blonde and fair in colouring."

"No—Roanna is my half-sister," she said woodenly.

Elda lifted her brows knowingly. "So he preferred you."

Feeling the dreaded blush once again, she cleared her throat. "Shall I wake him? He will be very pleased to see you."

"I confess that we worried about Roanna—please, do not take offense—"

"None taken," Aileen assured her, gesturing toward the well. "If you don't want to wake him, I was just going to the well…"

"We must not disturb him," Elda agreed, starting off at her side. "I wanted to meet you first," she explained with an unapologetic smile. "And to let you both know that you are expected tonight for a clan meeting. Tell Jared it is at sunset, at the council place."

They reached the well and Aileen began to fill the bucket, aware of the older woman's scrutiny.

"Then it is true that Jared refused the arranged marriage which would have freed him," she said carefully. "Even though he will no doubt suffer the consequences from Edward's scheming."

"He's has his own plans for outwitting them all," Aileen stated proudly. "He did ask me to marry him before the ransom came."

"I see," Elda mused, helping her lift out the bucket. Their eyes met over the well.

"I love him with all of my heart," Aileen told her.

Elda nodded. "Jared would never choose lightly, if at all." They lowered the bucket to the ground and faced each other. "He is a man who has suffered much, and been virtually alone in his suffering."

Aileen nodded, thinking of the things he'd told her just the day before. "I know."

"For many years it was our fear that he would never marry."

"He told me….may I ask about the ransom?"

"You will learn about that tonight, at the meeting," she was told. Together they carried the bucket to the porch and set it down. Elda straightened, her expression darkening with concern. "Has he told you about his mother?"

Aileen nodded. "I am sorry for your loss—he still suffers in dreams of her."

Elda crossed her arms. "It is a miracle he's alive…they could have killed him as well, with no thought or remorse."

"How can you stay here, where such a horrible thing occurred?" Aileen whispered.

"This is our land," she explained, nodding toward the house. "Jared's land. And it would be no different elsewhere."

"That is what concerns me," Aileen told her. She shook her head, thinking of all her naiveté. "I had thought that his nightmares were from the Crusade."

Elda straightened. "Did he tell you that he came here upon his return?"

"No...he did not."

Elda sighed heavily. "He was injured but recovered; yet the pain in his soul was greater. We prayed for his healing, and in time he did heal. Being here helps him a great deal, Aileen, though it comes with its own price. It is the only place where he has good memories, from before."

"I fear he will not be allowed to remain long, thanks to Edward's plans," she worried.

Elda waved dismissively. "We know all about his plans," she sighed. "He thinks he has loyal servants in this cantreff, but fear not—all is not what it seems. Now I must go—he will wake soon, and you will want to be there when he does."

"Thank you," Aileen smiled, "you have sent my mind at ease. And thank you for everything you prepared for us, upon his return."

"Jared is like a son to me," Elda stated proudly. "I have my own son, but he lives in another cantref at present. He might be my own flesh and blood, yet we are not as close as with Jared. But tonight you will meet him, and my husband….until then?"

Aileen nodded. "Until then; it was a pleasure to finally meet you."

She nodded regally. "The pleasure was mine—now kiss my nephew for me?"

Aileen watched her stride off until she disappeared into the wood near the hot spring. The thought occurred to her that Elda might have easily seen them bathing there upon their arrival. Blushing furiously, she turned and climbed the stairs to the porch and picked up the bucket.

"I must get breakfast started," she whispered to herself, smiling at the glimpse of Jared's sleeping face across the room as she began her preparations.

_c. 2009 by Christine Levitt_


	18. Chapter 18 To Carawyhin

_**Chapter 18 To Carawyhin**_

_**Aileen clutched Jared's arm as they stood in the pre-dawn light.**_ They had waited for an hour already, standing upon the farthest stretch of beach from his cabin. Behind them his uncle prepared the launch with Elda's aide. Finally through the fog enshrouding them they saw a rider off in the distance. His arm tensed beneath her hand and looking up she studied the grim set of his jaw

"It's him," he confirmed with a sign of impatience, meeting her gaze.

His eyes were steely grey, unreadable to her examination. Awareness heightened between them and she knew he sensed her fear of his cousin despite all efforts to reassure her otherwise. The day Uri and his men had surrounded them in the forest again rose up in her memory, and now that he was to meet them she swallowed against a dry throat. Jared's hand tightened at her waist as he turned his attention back to the man reining in before them.

Telling herself not to cringe at the threatening gleam in his eyes as he nodded to Jared and swept her with a dismissive glance, she straightened and gripped the edge of Jared's hauberk to steady herself. Uri smiled stiffly as he slid from his stallion's back and greeted Elda's rush toward him.

"Mother," he said warmly, embracing her as she flung her arms around his shoulders. "Father," he said tightly before swinging his mother around in a circle. She laughed with pleasure but demanded he put her down.

"You'll hurt your back!" Elda scolded, swatting his chest as he steadied her back on her feet.

His father stated his name but did not leave his preparations. With Elda linking her arm through his, he strode toward Jared and halted a few paces away, tipping his head back to meet his gaze.

"Well, well—we meet again, cousin," he growled but stretched out his hand.

Jared took it in his iron grip as Aileen dropped her arm from around his back. She watched the nerve leap in Jared's cheek as he nodded curtly.

"Hopefully on better terms this time," he drawled.

A glimmer of guilt passed behind his steady regard before he inclined his head. "Of course—good to see you Jared," he stated, finding his hand released. As he turned to leave he glanced her way.

"Lady Aileen," he said formally as his mother urged him toward the boat.

"Act the gentleman," Elda teased, "for she's not used to your ways Uri."

"My apologies," he acknowledged to both women, glancing Jared's way, "and for detaining you all. I had to see my men off first."

Elda climbed up the plank, taking her husband's proffered hand. "I expect all of us to become reacquainted and treat each other as family?"

Jared nodded to her as he offered Aileen his hand. "Of course, Aunt."

"I'll try my best," her son coughed, hiding a smile.

She met Jared's waiting gaze and caught the twinkle in his eye. When he climbed in and settled next to her, she shot the others a glance and leaned closer to him, seizing her opportunity while they were distracted with launching the boat.

"He's not as terrifying this time," she whispered.

Jared chuckled softly, his lips at her ear. "This shall prove interesting," he mused, his breath tickling a trail of warm sensations down into her ear and making her skin shiver in response. She looked up and held his warm gaze, wishing that they were alone.

When they shoved off and seated themselves, Elda glanced pointedly at her son as he helped his father row. "Jared was always a gentleman," she smiled toward him. "You could do well to learn from him, Uri."

"He's married!" he protested, "he _has _to be a gentleman."

"You think that is the only reason to behave oneself?" Elda choked. "Mayhap you might ask your sweetheart what _she_ thinks!"

Aileen gasped in surprise, unable to picture Jared's fearsome cousin with a sweetheart. She could feel Jared's stifled laughter at the place where her shoulder pressed into his chest. When they crested a wave he put his arm around her while eyeing his aunt. Uri almost looked embarrassed, were it not for the scowl wrinkling his features. Still he did not deny the presence of a sweetheart in his life.

"Setting us at odds only aggravates our tenuous peace," he hinted to his aunt, eliciting a howl of laughter from his cousin.

"That's what I've always admired about you, Jared," he declared, "you say exactly what is on your mind!"

Jared leaned back, his arm around her. "I've learned to severely curtail myself," he replied dryly, "except when among family."

Elda laughed good naturedly, glancing up at Nathaniel as he puffed on his pipe before turning his attention back to their course.

All conversation drifted off as they sailed into the deeper fog. It was an eerie sensation, Aileen decided, the way the fog not only enveloped them but also seemed to seep inside their souls. She shivered in the heavy cold which threatened snow. Clutching her heavy woolen cape closer, she leaned into Jared's warmth, trying not to stare at the seven meter high swells. They maneuvered past a series of rocks as she held her breath, but then Jared pointed north where she saw emerging from the fog a line of boats preceding them.

_Who were they, and where had they all come from? _she wondered. Never had she imagined the number of his clan being so great, all headed toward the island for their meeting. _How big is this family and clan? _she nearly asked aloud before she met Uri's silent regard.

"My men," he explained before glancing up at the darkening sky. "Storm's coming."

Jared pulled up his collar, his eyes counting the number of launches which she sensed fell short of his expectations. "Word went out to the others?"

"'Course," his cousin replied with a grimace, "though that does not mean they'll attend."

Jared pursed his lips. "For one thing, it will be an indication of where their loyalties lie."

Uri tensed visibly. "Loyalties? What of yours, _cousin_?"

For a moment they stared each other down, then Jared's breath sighed out a puff of white. "I'm here."

Uri yawned meaningfully, though he kept rowing. "So you are…"

Winding her hands around Jared's arm, she followed his gaze out over the water, seeing no sign of the island which he'd told her served as their meeting place. It was, by his word, a fortress as well, having been built long ago as a city or place of refuge. His own father had renovated the buildings which had been placed in the sides of the cliffs but had lain in ruins for years. She was very curious to see it, yet not quite sure what to expect. They were to remain on the island for the next three days, and the meetings were only open to the men and the few women who had attained elder status, of which Elda was one. She wondered how to spend the time in the company of women who were virtually strangers, and sensed that he would be busy with the men. His standing in this community was obvious, and she fought a bit of resentment for the demands constantly placed upon him. It seemed things were not much different from his time in Edward's court.

"Jared's parents were introduced at a council meeting," Elda sighed, smiling at Aileen when their eyes met. She felt Jared tense, but the way he watched his aunt told her of his longing to know anything and everything about them.

"Your father—," she glanced at Aileen, "his real father, by the way, sailed far beyond these waters, but in the summers returned to live among us. Though they lived only a moderate distance from each other, they never met before one particular year at council. It was then that they took notice of each other."

"She was your sister?" Aileen prodded gently at her lapse in the telling, feeling the tension in Jared's grip at her waist.

"My older sister," Elda sighed, her gaze looking beyond them into the past. "She was very gifted and beautiful …all the young men wanted her, except Jonathan of course. Or so it seemed." She looked back at Jared with a smile. "When he did, it was unexpected and sudden. It happened that first night in the great hall of the island, their first glance of interest. They married within a fortnight, and were very happy together…"

"She was devastated at his loss," Nathaniel remembered, startling them all. A look of embarrassment crossed his face before he turned back to his rowing.

Elda's expression dimmed. "Jared was just a boy."

"I remember him," Jared said, his lips pursed with determination. He glanced over at Nathaniel. "Let me row," he offered, about to set her aside.

"We're nearly there," he shook his head. "Uri's taking the harder part."

Aileen felt the undulating swells upset her equilibrium further, making her throat burn and her stomach nauseated. She forced her attention to Jared's stern profile, not knowing how she could comfort him. His parents' story was a sad one, save for its beginning.

_That was how I felt when first I set eyes upon you, _she wanted him to know, and at that moment he turned to look into her eyes. She watched as his expression changed from grief to concern at what surely must be the sick colour of her skin. But when she forced a smile his expression changed again. His gaze warmed as she looked up, praying he would realize that she felt the same way about him. The green-grey hue of his eyes darkened, their specks of silver glowing.

"Enough of romance," Uri's voice complained, "I haven't eaten since last night!"

"If you catch some fish I'll fry them for you," Elda's voice teased.

With images of split fish filling her mind, Aileen took a deep breath but could not seem to settle her stomach. A flurry of snowflakes sprinkled down upon them, swirling around the boat and lending a magical quality to the journey. She tried to imagine that they sailed to an enchanted isle, one where the sun would shine warmth down upon them and peace reigned instead of war. Jared's grip on her tightened as he lowered his head toward her ear.

"Hold on," he whispered as she looked up to see Uri frown in disapproval.

"Winter comes early here," Uri stated to no one in particular, looking away while she felt increasingly more ill.

"Are ye well, child?" Nathaniel asked gently, distracting her. She tried to smile but gulped down a swallow of the rising heat in her throat.

"Looks a bit green to me," Uri said knowingly, though his eyes squinted through the distant fog.

Suddenly a wave slapped the boat and they slid deeper into the trough, causing her stomach to lurch. Crawling over Jared's leg she gripped the edge of the boat and emptied its contents into the grey waters.

"Easy now," his voice soothed, his hands at her waist. She heaved again and began to shake. "Take your time."

"Poor girl," Elda soothed, and she heard her rummaging in her bag.

"Not much of a sailor, is she?" Uri's voice drawled.

"Give her a whiff of this," Elda told Jared.

His arm curled around her middle as he eased her back to his lap. Reluctantly uncurling her fingers from the frozen edge of the boat, she moved back into the shelter of his arm as he passed a vial of something beneath her nose. Upon recognizing it she gripped his hand, holding it in place while she breathed in the strong minty scent. Feeling better, she glanced up as he peered into her face. Gripping his thigh, she leaned into his side and held the vial in one hand. He coaxed her head to his shoulder and met Uri's smirk with his most stern expression.

"She's unaccustomed to the sea," he informed his cousin, who shrugged and looked away.

"My sister was a healer," Elda said proudly, nodding to Jared.

"As is Aileen," he replied, his eyes once again searching her face. "Better?"

"Yes, though I long for land…thank you, Elda."

"Keep it," she smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling, "for the return trip."

"A bit young to be a healer, is she not?" Uri asked Jared, his brows standing high above a cynical gaze.

"When I was thrown from my horse she found me in the forest," Jared informed him. "My leg had been badly broken, as were my ribs. She tended me well, and along with her father's care I again learned to walk."

Elda gasped. "That must have been a terrible injury," she marveled, her gaze shifting from him to Aileen,

"What were you doing in an English forest, son?" Nathaniel wanted to know.

Jared frowned and looked away. "The tale is for another time…we're here."

"That is how you met?" Elda asked Aileen, her voice animated.

"Yes," she answered for him, glancing up at his profile, "though we saw little of each other after his recovery."

"Apparently it was not a long separation," Uri drawled as he reached over with his oar to a boulder and turned the boat.

"The king did not approve," Elda surmised.

Jared reached for the anchor and glanced up at his aunt. "We were able to convince him otherwise."

Aileen held his glance for a moment, feeling herself blush.

"I must hear the entire account," Elda ordered, lowering the sail and securing it.

Nathaniel whistled and a shout answered them from above. "I think I smell bread baking!"

"Thank the Lord," Uri groaned, "I need food, not tales of courtly love!"

Jared pierced him with a knowing look, the corners of his mouth turning up a bit "You'll find your true love some day," he warned. "I'm impatient at the prospect."

Aileen stifled a laugh and helped fold the blanket Elda had draped over her knees.

Uri looked offended. "I've no need of love—and what woman would marry me?"

"That is up to you to make the decision," his father warned, "and we grow no younger, your mother and I."

"I expect a grandson before a year lapses," Elda announced, her gaze shifting from her son to Jared.

"You've heard the command," Nathaniel chuckled, his whiskered face splitting with a smile as he gripped the rope ladder that was lowered for them.

Jared wrapped his arm around her, his gaze narrowing upon Uri. "I've the strangest premonition, seeing you with a half dozen children and happily wed."

Uri's face blanched with fear as his parents laughed, and in that moment Aileen decided he was not as fierce as he wished others to think. She watched him be the first to start up the ladder, shoving her fear of water further down inside herself.

"Beware," Elda warned him, "Jared's premonitions often come true."

"See you in the great hall!" he called back as his mother shook her head and laughed.

Jared eased her toward the ladder, holding her arm as she stepped toward the stern of the boat. It pitched wildly, but somehow she managed to follow Elda up the few dozen rungs to the ledge above. With Jared climbing behind her she felt she could do anything and her spirits lifted.

At the top of the ledge she caught a glimpse of Uri disappearing around the bend in the tunnel which opened its mouth to receive them.

Elda's hand rested upon her arm. "Better now?" she checked, peering into her eyes.

"Yes, thank you," she sighed, her attention captured by the massive island with its towering evergreens and rock face.

Nathaniel climbed up and caught his breath, his gaze moving off toward the distant shoreline. By now the fog was lifting and they could see its distant outline through the mists.

"Welcome to Carawyhin," Jared breathed, his eyes fixed upon the massive hall that stood above them, a wooden fortress built into the sides of the mountain.

She gasped with pleasure, for even from a distance she could appreciate its strength and beauty. There were huge doors that looked carved with intricate patterns, and even windows of stained glass over the main entrance. Jared leaned closer, his hand upon her arm as the delayed following the others.

"The sea carved out its caves with the tides," he told her, pointing to the south. "From the parapet we are able to see many leagues distant for signs of anyone's approach."

She pulled his arm around her and held it to her middle with a contented sigh. "It's beautiful."

After a moment he sighed and drew her to his side. "You'll find our quarters quite habitable," he said softly, his expression relaxing. "Come, see for yourself."

_**Jared eyed Uri's men, not sure whether he could believe their acceptance of him. **_After hours of meetings he had to admit that with his cousin's support they did indeed seem to extend their trust toward him. His reconciliation with Uri not only restored the family, but the clan as well. Though in his own mind he knew he must still prove himself, his account of his journey to England up through his current predicament was understood and even supported. In turn, he'd taken the time to question and listen to each family's recent history, gaining an understanding of what had transpired during his prolonged absence.

"You see now why we sponsored his ransom?" Brother Tom smiled, slapping Jared on the back. He groaned inwardly, thinking of all the confusion concerning his identity which still seemed to linger.

"Of course we do, he's a cleric like you!" someone dismissed him. Subdued guffaws mixed with heated protests as Jared shook his head.

"If he's celibate what's he doing with a wife?" Uri defended, to Jared's surprise. His men were highly vocal in supporting his challenge.

"I'll believe it when she's rounded with his child!" an old rival waved dismissively.

"The Cistercians were the perfect choice to offer it!" Nathaniel announced. "They provided us the mask needed behind which to hide our real motivations."

"Religious instead of political!" someone shouted.

"Jared is no monk," Brother Tom laughed, lifting his mug to drain it.

"He's a Jew, for God's sake!"

"Aren't half of us?"

"There's talk of Edward expelling us—"

"Well we beat him to it!" Brother Tom shouted, his face red with anger. "Got you out just in time, my boy!"

"He's the perfect ambassador," Uri agreed.

"Not to mention the perfect redeemer!" someone proposed, to which a chorus of yeas and neas erupted.

Jared stood up to protest, his leg aching from inactivity. "I'm no savior," he argued, "only a voice of reason, at best."

"Yours is a voice the king himself trusted," Nathaniel reminded them, "which places you in the perfect place to influence the mighty."

"Can he keep Edward from building more fortresses along _our_ shores?"

"Mayhap Llewellyn can!"

"You're out of your mind if you want _that _man to lead us!"

"I don't trust him—"

"Who else do we have, deClare?"

At the mention of deClare Jared raised a hand. "This discussion has journeyed far afield yet again," he stated soberly.

"I agree," Uri groaned, rising from his seat and gesturing to his men. "I vote we dismiss for the night."

"Aye, we can continue at first light," others chimed, scraping back their chairs.

"But we've come no closer to a decision!" someone complained. "deClare does wield power in the West—it would be in our best interests to work with him!"

"He's moody and unreliable," Uri challenged, "obviously out for his own good."

"He's better than trusting an English king who hates us!"

"If he does expel us we have our lands to the north!"

"He has fortified the north," Jared insisted, shaking his head. "If we break off relations with him he will find it easier to force us into exile."

"And you think you can dissuade him?"

Jared pursed his lips. "I pray that I can."

"You rode with him on the _Crusade_!"

"And saved as many of our people as he could," Uri stated meaningfully.

Jared pursed his lips. "In truth, Edward is no more hostile than any other sovereign."

Nathaniel moved closer. "Does he not suspect your identity?"

Jared shook his head. "Not that I am aware."

"If you do as the king wishes and spy on _Llewellyn_, that fox will do all he can to find out all there is to know about you," Uri warned.

"What about Edward's spies?" one of his men wanted to know. "Word is they've scattered, searching for some sign of you."

Jared massaged the back of his neck. "They are far less capable than one might assume."

"But will they give up?" Nathaniel challenged.

He shrugged and smiled wearily. "They haven't found me yet."

"Llewellyn has your brothers under his thumb," Uri challenged. "Surely they could have shared the family secrets."

"My brothers know nothing of my identity."

"But your father does."

"Aye," Jared had to agree, "he does…If Llewellyn knew he would have already used it against me."

"Perhaps he is just waiting to see what you will do," Nathaniel warned.

"Llewellyn does not threaten me," he stated, turning to leave.

"If his spies fail to find you and you do not report on Llewellyn, Edward's trust in you will be broken," Uri commented, picking up his knife.

"I was purposefully vague about the matter," Jared stated.

"But you _have_ a plan," Uri prompted.

"I do," Jared smiled, nodding to him and Nathaniel, "for now it is to bid you a good night."

Thus dismissing himself, he walked away but not without overhearing his cousin's cynical reply. "If I had as fair a wife, I'd be doing the same."

_**The sound of the latch startled her, and she turned to face the door. **_It opened a crack and she breathed a sigh of relief. Jared's gaze held hers a moment before he pushed it further and stepped into the room, closing it behind him.

"Still about?" he asked quietly, latching it behind himself.

She lowered her hand from covering her heart and smiled with relief. "I wanted to wait up for you—

at last you've finished!"

With a sigh he dropped his coat onto the chair. "For now—we meet again at dawn."

Walking toward him, she stopped to study the lines of weariness upon his face. "You look exhausted."

"I am," he sighed tiredly, his eyes dropping to the place where her wrap had slipped off one shoulder. She felt their imprint as surely as if he had touched the skin covering it.

Reaching out, she laid her hands upon his chest as he straightened and grasped her wrists. For a moment they stared at each other before she leaned forward and rested her face at the base of his neck to breathe in his scent. Sliding her arms around his waist, she felt his arm pull her closer as he reached out to lift her chin. Gazing down into her eyes, he gently traced a finger across her cheek.

"No more sea sickness?" he whispered, a hint of a smile softening his expression.

"None," she smiled back, sliding a hand around and up over his chest. "I feel perfectly fine, _husband,_" she whispered.

"I am relieved," he whispered, sliding his hand into her hair. She heard him inhale the fragrance from her hair as he waited. She knew he wished to see what she would do, and felt empowered by his decision.

"I made us a warm fire," she said softly, smiling up at him as she gently tugged at the lacing of his tunic.

"I see that," he breathed, his eyes drawn to her lips.

"Might I pour you some wine?" she asked softly, glancing toward the table before the crackling fire.

"Let me," he stated, his eyes holding hers again as he slowly disengaged himself from.

She turned to watch him, her arms tugging her wrap closer. "How were you received?"

He poured her some wine and held it out, his eyes capturing hers. "Well enough, thanks to Uri."

She came closer to take it, watching him pour himself some wine. "It is hard to believe he's the same man I remember from the wood."

He lowered himself in the chair by the fire, his hand massaging his thigh. "Come sit with me."

She obeyed, settling herself upon his good leg. "Less fierce than I expected," she sighed, sliding her arm behind his neck. "And he does seem to respect you."

His arm curled around her hip as he rested his head back against the chair, his eyes treasuring her features. "It seems a softer heart beats beneath that rough exterior."

Winding her arms around him, she settled against his chest, tipping her wine up to take a sip. "Are you even going to disclose the identity of the one who ransomed you?" she smiled.

He smiled and lifted his wine, draining it before resting back again to gaze up at her. "Prepare yourself, for it is an unlikely source."

She smiled and tucked her hand into his half opened shirt, loving the strength of his body. Leaning closer, she touched her forehead to his temple. "Tell me," she whispered conspiratorially.

"The Cistercian brothers," he told her, his eyes probing hers.

Her eyes widened as she straightened. "Cistercian _monks? _But why would they—"

"We have a long history," he stated matter of factly.

"But they are agrarian, shepherding flocks!"

He smiled, lifting a hand to her shoulder and touching the skin that peeked out there. "I regret shocking you with the strangeness of my associations."

"But you aren't Cistercian! And you didn't take communion the day we were wed—"

"It's true they consider me a heathen of sorts," he sighed, his eyes touching her lips.

"_Heathen? _But you are not even a Christian!"

He looked up. "They seem to have developed a certain respect for the likes of my people."

She studied his face a moment. "I don't understand."

He shrugged. "Our family sees to their protection."

"Why do I have the distinct impression that you are telling me only part of the story?"

He chuckled and rested his head back again. "You are too perceptive, my love—they allowed me to study with them and use their library."

"Surely with hopes of converting you!"

"Yes, of course, but I may have done some converting myself," he said dryly. lifting a hand to toy with her hair.

She frowned. "Why can people not accept others for their differences?"

"I suppose the effort is too great for most."

"So it was _they_ who shot the arrows to you, that night on the parapet?"

"No, I'm afraid that was my dear cousin," sighed, massaging his temple for a moment. "Apparently he grew impatient with my lingering too long at Edward's court."

"But you were at odds over the matter of your keeping company with monks, were you not?"

"We were."

She held his gaze and laughed suddenly, lifting a hand to his whiskered cheek. "You truly have an interesting family and circle of friends, milord."

"Interesting is a kind choice of words, my love."

She traced his mouth with her fingertip. "Oh Jared," she sighed, "I missed you sorely."

His eyes darkened as his hand tightened at her waist. She looked him in the eye before kissing him, and then his hand cupped the back of her head as he breathed against her lips.

"And I you…"

_**Stretching lazily, she reached for him but found his side of the bed empty. **_With a sigh of regret and turning onto her stomach, she buried her face in his pillow and inhaled the trace of his scent left there. Dragging her arms beneath it, she shifted to her side and hugged the substitute.

"Another meeting," she moaned, willing him back. A few moments passed as she came fully awake, and beyond the single plain window she studied the glorious blue sky and detected the distant sound of the pounding surf. The cry of gulls rose suddenly as she shifted to her back. Her hand caught the collar of his discarded shirt and she pulled it to cover her face, remembering how she had removed it for him and all the wondrous things that had happened afterward.

"Jared…" she sighed, missing him and relishing the soft strength of his name. After a few moments she had a nagging thought about how he had seemed afterward, when he'd lain awake for a long time. Though he did not speak of it she had sensed the grief in him, but thought it better not to press him to share it. Now she decided the best thing she could do was to seek guidance from the One who knew him best.

_What can I do, Lord, _she thought as she stared up at the beautifully carved ceiling. _I love him so much, but how can I comfort him?_

The quiet of their room lent its own support, and she listened to the crackling fire he must have coaxed back to life before leaving.

_Wives, see that you respect your husbands… _came the unlikely whisper of a thought.

"I do respect him," she said aloud, realizing the admonition of the Scriptures.

_Let love have its perfect work…_

She considered their live, remembering how his expression had changed when she' initiated their lovemaking. The effort spoke of the fact that he had allowed her to do so. It spoke of his preference and view of seeing her as his equal, not someone he owned or dominated. Later, when he had held her captured by his love, he'd whispered that she was his treasure. It seemed, quite to her surprise and delight, that they had grown closer. She sensed that he'd given his heart to her, though they did not express this in exact words. Instead they had spoken with their eyes and touch, far more trustworthy declarations than mere words, she was convinced.

With a sense of accomplishment she flung back the blankets and sat up, gazing around their room and wondering when she would see him again. Perhaps at mid meal, she thought excitedly.

"I shall go to the women, offer my services and await the arrival of the men," she decided, reaching for her wrap with a smile at the memory of its swift departure from her the night before.

Rising, she tied it at the waist and searched for her small bar of soap. "And be sure that I let everyone know just what I think of my man."

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


	19. Chapter 19 The Campaign

_**Chapter 19 The Campaign **__**NOTE: **__This replaces the previous chapter, which had errors. csl_

_**Jared leaned his arms upon the parapet, gazing down at his wife and aunt. **_Far were standing in line upon the crowded boardwalk, their baggage around their feet. Despite the great distance separating them, his eyes drank in every detail concerning the former, savouring the opportunity to study her unaware. As he compared her figure, petite stand and mode of dress to the other women surrounding her, he had to admit that she was different. Today she'd dressed in a slate-coloured gown without lace or frills, its hem plain and sleeves to the wrists. It was cut simply to accent her figure, yet in his estimation it was far more intriguing than the low scooped necklines, padded and adorned gowns of the others. And her hair—she wore it down though gathered into a long tail of glossy waves, unlike the other married women who pinned up their hair. As he watched her lift a graceful hand to capture a wayward strand the wind had blown across her cheek, he thought she looked pale despite the creamy softness of her fair skin. He watched her turn her head to scan the docking area, slowly and carefully searching for something. _Or someone._

_Does she miss me? _he wondered, feeling his frayed nerves and racing thoughts began to calm just at the sight of her. As the morning light strengthened and bathed her in a golden glow, he saw her nod to Elda and ease forward, sliding her bag along the wooden planks with the toe of her boot. He watched in mute fascination as her skirts billowed in the breeze and smiled. The fact that she wore boy's boots and not the pumps or laced slippers other women wore amused him, and he felt his spirits lift further. Drawing a deep breath of the cold morning air into his lungs, he held it while she leaned closer to Elda and nodded in agreement at whatever she said. Given the length of the line, it would be some time before all the boats launched and everyone departed. Exhaling slowly, he knew he should go down and join them, but still he lingered, enjoying the chance to be alone and think. Though he was almost too tired to even do that.

_And what success would all this planning have?_ he sighed, evaluating the circumstances anew and coming to the same conclusion His country was torn from within and pressured from without, and he had the misfortune of being right in the middle of it. Edward expected him to garner whatever form of unity was possible, as did Llewellyn—two opposing sides expecting the same result. And strangely enough, everyone on this island had seemed to think he could somehow manage it. Taking another deep breath, he watched Aileen plop herself down upon the mound of baggage to wait, while Elda stormed off to complain to anyone who would listen.

_How shall I ever manage the task? _he prayed inwardly, finding his thoughts distracted by the way his wife leaned back, her arms spread behind her. She lifted her face and he saw that her eyes were closed. The morning sun began to warm the new day, and there was a sweet smile upon her face. The wind caught her hair and toyed with it, but her chest lifted as she also breathed in the freshness of the morning. Suddenly he wished he was close enough to bend down and kiss her lips, then feel her arms slip around his neck; his mouth lifted toward a smile as he imagined what else they might do to him.

He'd risen just before dawn, silently dressing and preparing for the final day of meetings. While dressing himself his gaze had journeyed over the sweet curve of her lips, the soft plane of her cheek and the bare shoulder peeking out from beneath the bedcovers. He remembered being comforted by the sound of her slow breathing while she slept, and how tempted he'd been to lie back down and coax her into his arms yet again. Now he regretted not doing exactly that, for it seemed that his only joy in this world was found in her arms. But time and the fact that people were waiting for him had prevented him, so he'd packed his things and fed the fire before leaving. He could still see the play of firelight upon her skin, illuminating the place where her gown had slipped low over her breast. Swallowing and diverting his attention to the guard tower, he prayed for strength and decided it was time to find Uri and have the brief word with him that had become a necessity.

He picked up his bag but could not help gazing down at her once again. Elda had returned and they were nearing the dock. He saw his uncle's boat moving into position and knew that he must make an appearance. Another glance at his wife revealed her eagerness to leave, though she still searched her surroundings for some sign of him. But she never looked up. In that moment he realized that she was a distraction which he could not afford, yet he welcomed it nevertheless. She had captured him, just as surely as if he'd been indentured as her servant. He was no longer free, and could not go back to being the way he'd been before. They were bound, however unexpectedly and quickly it happened, and despite his years of isolation and loneliness living as an orphan among the strangers in his stepfather's family. She challenged him at every turn, no doubt without even knowing it. But for him all it took was a glance or a touch and he was distracted, sometimes paralyzed. She'd created in him an emptiness only she could fill, and he recognized it as a weakness—a noble one, but still a weakness. One which others might exploit, if they could discern it. And this flooded him with a whole new level of concern.

_Take heed_, a thought whispered in his mind, _you're losing your heart to her…_

He watched her turn and embrace his aunt, taking note of the way Elda kissed her cheek and the way his uncle nodded to his wife in approval as he waited for them to board. She had also conquered his relatives as well, winning them over. He remembered the congratulations on his marriage which he'd received throughout their time here, amazed that his clan considered her a rare find, a woman of good character and subtle beauty, even if an English one. Suddenly it mattered not that she distracted, frustrated or tempted him—he surrendered himself to her, and willingly.

"Jared—there you are!" Uri's voice called, breaking his concentration. He turned to see his cousin coming up the path and nodded in greeting. He came to his side and leaned his arms upon the wall without comment, silently observing the departure being played out before them. Together they watched the women as another came to join them. Elda removed her arm from Aileen's shoulders to turn and kiss the blonde woman's cheek, and Aileen reached out to clasp her hand. Suddenly his aunt looked up, froze and then pointed toward the place where they stood, waving to them from far below. Aileen, he noted, lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she gazed in the indicated direction, smiling when she spotted him. Her arm flew up as she waved, as did the other woman standing with them. To both their surprise she called Uri's name.

Jared turned his head and took note of the scowl upon his cousin's face, watching in mute fascination as he half lifted his hand to return the greeting. When he glanced guiltily at him, Jared smiled broadly but said nothing. He had recognized her but did not know her name. Her father was a well respected leader but had refrained from joining in the public discussions. Trying to recall ever seeing Uri in their company, he found he could not. But then again he'd been gone for years.

Uri cleared his throat and switched his attention to the navy-grey sea spread before them. Following suit, Jared noted the distant appearance of the outline of the coast now that the fog was rolling away. It seemed like a dream to bask in the warmth of the autumn sun after the previous storm. Throughout the night snow squalls and winds had pounded the island, yet already what was left of the early snow was melting in the sun and the sea was considerably calmer in its wake.

"She is from a good family," he stated without prelude, careful to keep his gaze upon the distant cliffs.

He sensed his cousin abrupt look of disinterest. "Who is?" he croaked before he glanced away.

Ignoring his efforts to appear unaffected, Jared studied his profile as he squinted across the channel. "You know who I mean," he said in a lowered voice. "Looks to be a woman of solid character, and fair at that."

He watched Uri glance up at the sentries just above their heads. "Aye," he admitted in a bored tone. Then he pushed away from the wall and turned to face him. "Time to be off!"

Jared crossed his arms, standing his ground. "She seems to like you," he prompted, waiting for a more clear admission. Uri was a decade older than he, yet to his knowledge had never married or had a serious relationship.

He shrugged and offered no further comment.

Jared frowned. "You could do worse."

Uri glanced up with narrowed gaze, obviously annoyed by his bold trespass into a topic he clearly wished to avoid. "Don't go there, cousin."

Jared dropped his hands to his sides, shaking his head. "You're not getting any younger," he hinted.

Uri sighed with sudden resignation, his gaze wandering off. "Maybe you're right," he breathed, "just last night she herself hinted at the very same thing."

Jared glanced down at the women, who were getting ready to board. "Then take all our advice and ask her," he advised, walking past him toward the stairs in order to find a more private spot for what he needed to say to him.

"I might just do that," he called, following a bit behind him.

He hoisted his bag to his shoulder. "Good!" he called back.

They wound their way down the stairs which clung to the eastern side of the cliff.

"By the way you did well," Uri declared as they descended together. "Make a good impression, though it pains me to admit it."

Jared glanced over at him as they paused to let a group of men pass. "I wasn't trying to impress anyone," he said quietly once they had.

"I think you've finally convinced them of your status," Uri judged. "The marriage certainly helped you with that."

Jared stopped abruptly and turned upon the landing. "To which do you refer—my status as elder, or as a man?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked up at him. "Both, it seems," he said with a hint of respect to his voice. "How do you manage it all, cousin?"

"Apparently my service to Edward proved invaluable," he replied, "if it is diplomacy to which you refer."

Uri planted his hands upon his hips. "Don't credit an English king for what is obviously your _own_ gift!" he warned. "Our own test was just as trying yet you managed to prove yourself there as well."

Jared threw up his hands. "Prove myself at _what?_"

"That you're one of us again—and a leader as well!"

"I doubt I've fully convinced anyone of my allegiance," he argued, "and as to leading, I've only a clear mind and a hesitancy toward prejudice which qualify me."

"I'd wager it's more than that," Uri stated, "for you see all sides of a problem yet discern the answer—that I consider a gift, indeed."

Jared shook his head. "Whatever it is, it's come at great cost."

"I know," Uri breathed. "We all see that, Jared."

Studying his cousin's expression and finding sincerity, Jared let down his guard. Remembering the matter he wanted to discuss, he nodded toward a side path that appeared to lead off into the wood. "Might we have a word?"

Uri's eyes narrowed. "I thought you wanted to leave."

"Only a moment," Jared assured him, checking to see if anyone was about. "I've a favour to ask," he said quietly, seeing no one.

Uri crossed his arms, obviously in no mood to dally. "Depends what that favour is."

"It's about Aileen," he warned, eyeing his cousin. He frowned but waited.

Jared paused, not wanting to reveal too much of his plans but knowing how perceptive his cousin was. He pursed his lips before continuing. "I'd like you to look out for her," he stated, "just in case anything should happen to me."

Uri's brows rose in protest. "It won't—"

"Hear me out—"

"—not if I have anything to do with it!"

Jared lifted a hand to stop him. "Humour me," he urged, relaxing when Uri sighed resignedly.

"All right—go on."

Jared glanced toward the direction of the harbour, unable to see beyond the veil of evergreens blocking the view. "You more than anyone I know understand what's been required of me," he began. Again he glanced around, seeing no one. "If I don't act soon, I may lose any choice in the matter."

Uri nodded. "You have my support, and that of my men."

Jared nodded, laying a hand on his arm. "Whatever happens I don't want her involved, though she will try to be."

Uri harrumphed in agreement, waiting to hear him out.

"She needs protection, and you're the only one I trust."

Uri stared at him, scratching his beard with a perplexed expression. "You love her?"

Jared eyed him in mounting frustration. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Uri shrugged. "She's hardly one of _us_."

Jared stabbed a finger into his chest. "She's my _wife_, which makes her one of us!"

He raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine!" he defended. "It just takes some getting' used to!"

"What does?"

"You and women—what else would I mean?"

Jared stared at him a moment, then lifted a hand to massage his temple where a headache was forming. He had thought that matter laid to rest along with Aileen's presence at his side, but apparently he'd been presumptuous. Dropping his hand, he tried to gather his wits in an effort to explain.

"Why not try—just for one moment—to put yourself in the same position as mine?"

Uri recoiled with obvious offense. "What _position_?"

Jared struggled to find a way to explain his past as briefly as he could. "There I was, not much more than a boy," he began, "advancing in my training toward knighthood—"

"You should have stayed home," Uri interrupted, "where you were needed!"

Jared shook his head in frustration. "My main objective for entering service was for vengeance, for Mother's sake—"

"And rightly so!"

Jared noted his glare of approval. "I'm glad we are in agreement about that!"

"We are! So go on…"

"There I was, a _Jew_ training for knighthood, with a desperate need to keep _that_ identity a secret…"

"All right…"

"Now how would _you_ act to keep that identity a secret?"

Seeming to ponder this a moment, his cousin's expression began to light with understanding. "Living among other men, in such close quarters?"

"With rarely a moment's privacy," Jared hinted.

"Well that's simple—be absolutely sure no one notices the _sign_!"

"Exactly!" Jared emphasized. "_How_ would you do that?"

Uri eyed him conspiratorially. "Hiding the proof of circumcision would be tough—I would need to keep others away…pretend I had lice, or a disease—"

"Or act shy—"

"Not good enough—they'd challenge you to prove your worth—"

"Not if they thought I was _strange_…"

Uri stared at him in awe. "That's a brilliant excuse—and it would keep away both men _and_ women!"

Jared sighed in relief, finally winning his cousin's understanding and approval. "I took the only opportunity afforded me, the avenue of knighthood by which I might advance to a place of standing and plead for justice not only for Mother, but for our people as well."

"But joining the Crusade—"

"Yes but for _us_, not for the Crown!"

Uri's face beamed with inspiration. "I'm beginning to see, but was that the only way to win standing?"

Jared nodded. "At least I thought it was. I found though that I was able to spare Jewish lives, despite being right under the nose of the king's finest and bravest. Unfortunately it was never enough lives."

"It was an impossible task, Jared—and now you've succeeded! You've won Edward's respect!"

"And put myself in another impossible situation."

Uri nodded in agreement. "Why haven't you explained any of this before? For years we all thought you left to become Christian. Almost as bad, we assumed you avoided women as a preference!"

Jared shrugged. "I merely obeyed the vows of celibacy, as any knight would—"

"Come on, Jared—many a knight's broken _that _vow!"

"But _I _could not!" Jared tried to explain. "I had to excel beyond the others! I had to prove my dedication, and keeping to myself was the best way to hide my true identity."

"You've won my added respect in the doing," Uri vowed, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "And now what will you do?"

Jared shook his head. "I've no choice—I've got to let Llewellyn have me."

Uri frowned. "Watch out for that one," he warned, his expression darkening. "Sometimes I wonder if deClare wouldn't be better than him as Prince."

Jared glanced toward the harbour. "Promise me you'll look after her?"

"Would she _allow _me to?"

"I cannot be sure," Jared admitted, running a hand down his stubbled cheek. "At first she judged you fierce and uncouth…now she sees your more compassionate side—"

"I'd be happy to!" Uri promised, somewhat disgusted at this latter stated quality. "But let's pray the time never comes—you can spy on Llewellyn, satisfy Edward and stay a free man."

Jared shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not that simple."

Uri nodded, not wanting the details. "Well, let's be off then—and don't concern yourself about her safety, whatever you do. I'll speak to my men and enlist them as well."

"Just be sure she doesn't suspect," Jared warned. "She's got her own aspirations, and they don't necessarily include cooking and embroidery."

_**Artus shoved his former guardsman to his knees, **_secretly relishing the chance to have a bit of revenge with him.__"Here's the traitor, Your Majesty," he announced, "as requested."

Otis whimpered at the point of sword he pressed against the side of his neck. He saw Edward conclude the discussion with his advisors and dismiss them. Then he turned and approached them, his expression hard.

Otis shook with fear, for few men failed to tremble in the presence of Longshanks, as Edward was called. At his motioned gesture Artus drew the prisoner's head back so their eyes met. Otis whimpered at Edward's fierce scowl only a breath away from his face.

"What is your name, traitor!" he demanded.

"Otis, Your Majesty," he croaked, "son of Miller—"

"I could care less about your parentage!" the king growled in protest. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hang you for your treason!"

"I've news, Your Majesty," Otis pleaded for his life, "word of insurrection in the western Marches Sire—Llewellyn's cause is drawing more and more support!"

Edward straightened to his full, impressive height. He eyed Artus, who released him. Together they watched him fall forward onto his hands and knees.

"Mere gossip, I'd wager!" he boomed, lifting a hand to examine his nails. "You'd better have more than that to say."

Quickly straightening, Otis looked up at him in reverential fear. "I do, Sire, but it's a story long in the telling—"

"Then keep to the specifics and make it worth my time!"

"The Cymri are dangerously divided, Sire, even despite ap-Ryce's hard work," he continued in a shaky voice. "They took me captive, Sire, and made me swear allegiance to their cause—"

"Tell the truth," Artus warned as he pressed the sword against his throat, remembering the band of ruffians to whom Otis had betrayed their presence. Clearly they were not native Cymri. "And remember," he said softly, "I was there."

Otis shuddered but kept his eyes upon Edward. "Word has it Sir Jared is still opposes the Prince, siding with his father's clan in the North. He's been seen riding with another clan by the coast, another faction rumoured to rival Llewellyn's influence—"

"Tell me something I _don't _already know!" Edward threatened as Artus pressed the blade closer.

"Llewellyn's threatened Sir Jared's brothers unless he throws in with his lot," he added, sweat dripping down his neck. "The brothers remain guarded at Snowden as bait, with no sign of Sir Jared's appearing. His men are scouring the countryside for him as we speak—"

"All of this is useless to me!" Edward insisted, turning his back.

"He's hunting ap-Ryce like an animal now," Otis pleaded for his life. "They've been seen in the forests of Flint lookin' for him—seems the entire Cymri people are after him!"

Edward paused, his expression thoughtful. Artus watched him carefully, still holding Otis in place.

"So ap-_Ryce_ is the key to their unity," the king murmured thoughtfully, cracking his knuckles. He nodded to Artus, who released him.

Otis nodded forcefully. "Llewellyn's men are all over the area—"

"I heard as much from my contacts at Flint," Edward hinted with a smile.

"He's got a hideout in the area," Otis surmised. "First you'll catch a glimpse of him here, then there—then nothin'! He's teasing them, methinks Sire, but as yet no one's found him."

"Very interesting," Edward replied, pacing slowly and glancing at him thoughtfully. "You've given me cause to consider sparing you after all…"

"Th-thank you, Your Majest—"

"Take him away," he barked, and Artus jerked him to his feet. He waited for his men to escorted him from the chamber, none too gently he smiled inwardly.

When they were alone Edward motioned for him to come near. "I've an assignment for you, Artus," he said just above a whisper. "A secret assignment, understand?"

Artus nodded, and at his pause added "Sire?"

"I want you to start toward Flint this night, under cover of darkness," Edward ordered. "Take Artus with you—he' s half Cymri if I'm not mistaken?"

"Aye, sir."

"Good—hold your tongue but tell him what to say. I want you to find out everything you can about Sir Jared and Llewellyn as well. Go as commoners under the pretense of Rhys being one of Jared's distant relatives looking for him. I want you to take Carrick with you—he'll be the bait to lure ap-Ryce out from hiding. When you can confirm his whereabouts send word through a smith in Flint named Rourke. Wait with Carrick at the Boar's Head Inn just outside the city, but only for a week's time. Unless you hear otherwise, start back the last Friday of this month—that should give you enough time, barring any snowstorms."

"Yes Sir."

"You know Jared as a friend," Edward breathed, shaking his head. "Would he go to Snowden, in your estimation?"

Artus shook his head. "I doubt that, Sire—he doesn't trust him; and he wouldn't risk it with Aileen there."

"I'm certain he wouldn't—she's his most precious possession."

"Aye sir."

"If it weren't so close to winter I'd have you make your way to Snowden in his place. Take care, son—I'll need you back with Carrick and Rhys safely in tow, understood?"

Artus nodded, bowed and turned to take his leave, knowing when he'd been dismissed. Ever since Jared and Aileen had disappeared he'd worried over their safety. Not wanting to leave Serena, he had to trust that she would understand, her own concern for Aileen paramount. As he made his way toward the physician's quarters he fell deep into thought, thinking back to those last days when Jared had trained him to replace him. He had to admit he'd been a dismal failure, trying to take up his responsibilities. The Marcher lords had no respect for him, citing his heritage as fair enough grounds. His lot had fallen to training and setting up sentries over those lands, and eventually Edward had recalled him with that guard set in place. Now they simply waited to see what would happen while Edward secretly continued his plans to fortify his holdings beyond the borderlands to the north and west.

He was startled when he heard a familiar voice call his name. Stopping abruptly, he turned to see Neal Carrick coming after him, the very person he sought. Nodding in greeting as he came up, he forced the agitation he felt deep inside and greeted Aileen's father.

"Good day, sir," he stated, offering his hand.

"Artus," Neal said soberly, shaking his head as they clutched hands. "You look about urgent business, which explains why you didn't hear me calling your name!"

"That I am sir," Artus answered, glancing around to be sure no one watched them with anything but casual interest. "I must speak with you in private, sir," he said quietly, turning to walk with him toward his quarters. "I've important news to share—"

"Is someone injured?" Neal assumed, quickening his pace.

"I'll explain in your quarters, if I may?"

Neal's expression changed from concern to alarm. "Of course—"

Artus leaned closer. "How would you like to see your daughter again?" he hinted, hearing the older man's sharp intake of breath.

"Is she well?" he hissed, keeping his gaze ahead as they entered the foyer.

"I believe so—"

"And Jared?"

They strode down the corridor toward his quarters, Artus already feeling the weight of the importance of this assignment. "We must make ready quickly—we leave within the hour."

_**Aileen swallowed her protests and sat higher in her saddle**_ as she followed Jared's stallion up the ascending trail. Ahead of him rode the chieftains of the north, behind them Uri and his men as rearguard. This was their tenth excursion since leaving the island, and she was running out of patience. No longer could she bear watching Jared deprive himself of sleep and meals. They rarely spoke in private and had contented themselves with whatever fleeting glance or hidden clasp of the hand they could manage. She missed him and judging by the longing in his gaze she sometimes detected, he missed her. Several times they'd had to hide quickly in some hidden cave or perch upon some high ledge while others passed by unaware, always fearing discovery by bands of scoundrels, thieves or worse—Llewellyn's men. All this set her nerves on edge and her stomach fluttering nervously. Her emotions were dangerously close to uncontrollable when she wasn't drowsy from lack of sleep. She felt resentful and on the verge of insanity with the constant strain of travel and separation from her husband. They needed rest, and they needed to be with each other. _Alone._

Vowing to confront him with this obvious need as soon as an opportune moment presented itself, she shrugged off the improbability of that even occurring and settled the matter in her mind. Privacy was the main commodity they needed, but it had been denied for the last fortnight and two days. Realizing that this campaign was to mobilize his people for either defense or war, she accepted the threats of Llewellyn gaining strength in the west and Edward fortifying his strongholds in the north and south, she recognized its importance. The Cymri needed to unify in order to repel these threats, and they had already attended countless meetings at different cantrefs in an effort to secure this unity. But this had entailed riding into the dead of night to meet secretly and in remote and well-guarded locations. Of course these meetings were denied her, and Jared himself insisted that she stay with Jon, the elderly cook and supply master, and that the less she knew of their plans the better for her sake. All of these developments made one thing unfortunately and supremely clear—Jared had been chosen as chief advisor and spokesperson for his people and there was nothing she could do about it. Though she resented it, she could not help but admire and respect him for accepting such a duty. She had after all shared him with Edward before, and kept telling herself that sharing him with his own people was a far more important calling. Her only comfort therefore was in the swiftly approaching winter that would close the mountain passes and prevent further travel. But so far winter had held off, despite threatening skies and the heavy weight of the air.

Staring at the slump in his shoulders, she sighed tiredly, her eyes closing in exhaustion. Just this morning they'd left the Cistercian abbey which had sponsored his ransom, yet she had been given little detail concerning the relationships Jared shared with these men of God. Being a woman had isolated her under the abbey's strict monastic rules, and she'd spent an entire day and night alone in her stark quarters. And this had given her plenty of time to simmer with resentment instead of devoting herself to prayer and resignation. She was just too lonely and too tired to manage anything further.

_I am not a prisoner! _she remembered crying inwardly at her husband when she saw him emerge from the chapel earlier this morning. As if sensing her mood the brothers had directed stern glances and harsh whispers of protests her way, prompting Jared to stop and linger with her in an unusually private moment. He'd taken her arm and led her outside, waiting until they were alone in the mudroom before taking a moment to be alone with her. And in that moment she had cherished his expression of concern and the softly whispered apology that flowed from between his magnificent lips. When she touched his waist and moved closer he had stiffened at the sound of approaching footsteps, then set her apart from him. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, tears flooding her eyes but unseen by him. And now she was forced to take charge of the situation and make him set aside time for them to be alone.

Only twice in all these weeks had he come to her under cover of night, taking her in his arms without more than a whispered vow of his love or her name upon his lips as he buried himself deeply inside her. While she craved the long kisses and teasing touches they'd once shared as a prelude, they'd shared dangerously forbidden and rushed encounters which left her so stunned and overwhelmed with passion they'd rendered her speechless. And no longer did he sleep with her tucked against him but in his own bedroll as he guarded her throughout the night to keep her safe. Close, but not close enough.

The whinny of a nearby horse interrupted her thoughts, causing her to turn and glare at Uri's unsuspecting profile. It was he, she decided, who was to blame for it all. He was, after all, one of the major proponents behind elevating Jared to this level of influence, and for making his support unanimously. Remembering their initially hostile encounter in the forest so long ago, she found it odd that he and his men had so quickly changed their minds concerning Jared. Yet, upon his return, Jared seemed to have mended every rift that had stood between him and his clan, and gone beyond it by winning their acceptance and approval.

As if sensing her regard, he also turned and met her gaze, smiling when he noted her scowl of disapproval. He raised a hand to salute her, then rode past her to come up to Jared's side. She watched them lean toward each other as they rode, as the narrow confines of the trail permitted. Jared pointed westward and Uri shook his head vehemently. When Jared straightened and Uri dropped his head in dejected acceptance she knew what it was that they discussed. It was always the only remaining but tiredly same issue—Jared's objective in reconciling with his brothers. To this she knew Uri objected, and for once she found herself in total agreement with him. But Jared insisted.

He was going to travel to his stepfather's lands and face his family, despite his father's failure to ransom him or his brothers' apologies. They had betrayed him, and she had to agree with Uri that for this they could not be trusted. Never allowed the luxury of joining in this discussion, she had nevertheless overhead it on two occasions, and now for a third. They tried to discuss it rationally in private, but it always resulted in shouts and being cut off for the sake of the others accompanying them. And even, she sensed, for her sake.

She looked up as Uri guided his stallion to the side, letting Jared pass as well as the men directly behind him. As she approached he waited, then rode up to her mare with his eyes upon Jared's back.

"He insists on trusting them!" he complained to her, turning his head to evaluate her position. She nodded soberly, coaxing her mare to keep pace with his mount.

"They are his family, Uri," she had to defend Jared.

"Family!" he huffed, raising a fist. "We're his blood family! Yet he insists on winning his brothers' support against Llewellyn, right under his nose! They've stayed with him at Snowden all this time!"

"Perhaps he holds them as bait to lure Jared there," she reasoned.

"Even more reason why he should not plan on going—but will he listen to me? Will he listen to you?"

She shook her head. "We haven't discussed it, but I know his heart."

Uri expelled an impatient breath and nodded to her. "I'll see to it that you have a chance tonight—even if I have to force him to get some rest."

"For once we are in agreement," she said sternly, a smile playing about her lips.

He studied it in surprise, then his grin split his face. "Seems we are…"

Then he tipped his cap to her and fell back, taking the rear as he called to his men.

They headed down the trail, which dipped toward a valley. Off in the distance she could hear the sound of rushing water, which grew louder as they approached. Dusk enveloped them quickly, though the sun had just slipped behind the distant ridge. The forest grew steadily darker and she pulled her coat tighter across her chest. A twinge of pain cramped her belly but she dismissed it as hunger. Why they rode so long and still got hungry made no sense, but Jon had convinced her it was the way of the traveler. And she had to accept his years of experience as proof. To distract herself she lifted her gaze to her husband, surprised that he now sat higher in the saddle. Gone was the weary slump of his posture, and she felt hopeful that he planned to make camp early this night.

Suddenly he stiffened and turned halfway around to meet her gaze. She marveled that the connection between them was so strong that they could sense the other's gaze or thoughts. Usually this came after years of married life, and to have it so early was an encouragement. Across the distance separating them she watched the cold vacant resolve in his eyes warm at her attention. He pursed his lips and it vanished so quickly that she thought she imagined it. Watching his jaw tighten with resolve she threw back her shoulders in protest, holding his gaze as it again changed to one of surprise.

_I shall speak my mind tonight, milord husband! _she told him silently, watching his eyes light with silvery heat. Much to her surprise her body responded to his silent and stern regard, and she was flushed with heat and longing she could no more control than the weather. Despite her plans to confront him, she knew that if left alone with him she would rush to him and cling to him as never before. His brows lifted even as she thought it, and the fire in his gaze burned even brighter.

It was humiliating, being thus treated yet still shamelessly responsive to his sudden and short-lived attention. Yet when his eyes darkened and his lips parted she almost felt the breath he exhaled in frustration. He swallowed with difficulty, and her eyes followed the course of the gesture with absorbed fascination. His neck was bared despite the chill of the late November dusk, and his Adam's apple dipped slightly as he did so. She remembered the taste of his skin there, the scent of him beneath her nose and filling her being. Fighting to breathe in the clench of her desire for him, she saw his gaze falter before he dragged it from her face and turned away. The moment was lost, leaving her torn between anger and passion that burned deep within her.

"His only concern is for your safety," Uri's voice said apologetically. She had not realized he'd ridden back to her side.

With a heart breaking with remorse she watched Jared urge his stallion faster, riding ahead to scout out a place to camp.

"I know," she choked, swallowing hard as Jared's posture stiffened and he seemed to be on sudden alert, as if he sensed—

"Hold then!" Uri shouted just as she watched something sail toward Jared and strike him on the shoulder. He lurched sideways and cried out a warning, his horse whinnying in fear as he fought to control it. Turning abruptly he jabbed his heels into its sides and bolted toward the sound of the river rushing off down the mountain. In his wake a hailstorm of rocks pelted all around, one eventually finding its mark. She ducked at the storm of rocks raining toward them, watching in horror as blood burst from his temple. He sped away from them all, a hand to his head as he fought to escape.

She cried out his name as her own reins were snatched from her grip. Clutching the pommel of her saddle she tried to shield herself from the projectiles and get her reins back.

"Retreat!" Uri shouted as they turned in response to take cover. Her blows to his arm went unnoticed as he took control of her mare and forced her to follow him up the side of the mountain.

"Jared's hurt!" she screeched, glancing back to see his horse charged by a dozen riders, all dressed in grey and black. They encircled him quickly, and through their trap she could see that he'd fallen forward, his head streaming with blood. One of his captors took his reins as he began to slide off, another placing a steadying hand upon him to keep him horsed. A rope was thrown and fastened over him as she watched his arm fall limply to one side. She choked back a sob, knowing he was lost to her.

They watched their scouts charged toward him and pursue the group as they charged off, Uri's men in pursuit. The thunderous clamour of their hooves filled the wood. They all rounded a bend and were see no more as darkness swallowed them up. Soon the sound of their departure began to fade into silence.

Facing his cousin she swung an arm toward him, missing but trying again. He fended her off as she ranted and raved at him, releasing all her pent up anger and frustration. He let her continue until she was worn out. When she finally hung her head they heard riders.

"They're back," he announced grimly.

She looked up. There were only two.

"What news?" he demanded, ignoring her as he listened to their report.

"They knocked him and have him tied to the saddle," one reported, trying to catch his breath. He pointed toward the place where the sun had already set. "They are heading for the western pass—Gawain and Ned will track them in secret, as planned."

"They weren't detected?"

He shook his head. "I doubt it—they all ride together and know nothing of tracking."

"Which puts us to an advantage," Uri nodded, glancing at her. "We'll return to the abbey—it's the safest place for the right."

"Aye," one of the scouts nodded, gesturing toward the trail below. "We'll hold position and make sure they don't send anyone back."

"Good—give us a moment."

They rode off as she slid from her mare and stalked off, rounding a sturdy oak to hide her tears. She mourned Jared's loss despite her conviction that he would not be killed—he was too valuable a prisoner. When she heard steps approach she leaned back against the trunk and fought to keep her temper in check.

"I had to protect you," Uri's voice stated. "If they'd gotten hold of you Jared would've killed me himself!"

Struck by the tone in his voice, she considered the meaning behind his words and stepped out from behind the tree to glare at him. "What do you mean, he'll kill you himself?"

He glanced away as she approached him, grabbing hold of his hauberk and trying to shake him. He caught her wrists and they struggled a moment until she gave up. Then he released her but raised an accusing finger at her.

"He _charged_ me with your protection!" he informed her, ignoring how she glared back at him. "I had to get you away from danger—don't you understand?"

"No I don't _understand_!" she protested, taking a moment to study his features. There was something in his expression that roused her suspicion—perhaps it was the way he could not look into her eyes for more than a few seconds. She planted her hands upon her hips and came closer.

"He was _planning_ on going to Snowden, wasn't he?" she guessed, and it was confirmed when he looked away. When she grabbed his cloak he met her gaze.

"All right, he was, once we got you to a safe place!" he admitted. "They've been hunting him for weeks, and he didn't want to live like that—or subject you to it."

She pointed to the circle of riders keeping their distance and trying to avoid watching the scene being played out before their eyes. "Your _men_ just stated how poor Llewellyn's men are at tracking!"

"Well somehow they caught sight of our trail! Had we any idea they had—"

"Jared knew!" she insisted, remembering the expression on his face not more than a few moments ago. "You must have seen how he stiffened, as if going on alert—"

"Yes, but only right before it happened!" he complained, running a hand through his hair. His eyes rose to the ridge above them as he shook his head. "Had we been rested we'd 've noticed it sooner—"

"This was all _your_ doing!" she reproached him. "You forced him into leadership—"

"Yes we wanted him to lead us, and he rose to the challenge, didn't he? He's gifted and can see into the future—you of all people should know that!"

"I do!" she admitted hysterically, lifting her hands to cover her face as she started to sob. "I'm terrified what they'll do to him, and I just want him back…with me!"

To her surprise she felt him grip her arms, then fold her into a stiff embrace. He called to one of his men as she rested her forehead against his shoulder, gripping his waist. The tears streamed from her eyes and she was completely unable to stop them. She heard horses being led to them, and lifted her head to draw her sleeve across her eyes. He took her arm and led her to her mare.

"We cannot remain here," he told her gently. "It's not safe."

She nodded and took the reins. He gripped her waist and helped her up, and she sat gazing down at him feeling drained. "I'm sorry..."

"No, I'm sorry," he growled, turning to mount as well. His gaze rested upon her one last time. "We're going back to the abbey—stay close."

She nodded.

He frowned. "Whatever becomes him, know that he'll have a plan in mind."

"Of course he will," she sighed tiredly, riding by his side as they descended back to the trail. "And I'm afraid it involves outwitting not only Llewellyn, but the King of England as well."

He nodded. "They are men of tremendous power and cunning, with all the resources they need at their disposal, but there is one thing they'll not see coming."

Taking a deep breath, she waited for his explanation. When he did not offer it, she prodded him for one. "What will they not see?"

He smiled at her slyly. "The same thing he did on the Crusades—divide and conquer!"

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


	20. Chapter 20 The Spy

_**Chapter 20 The Spy**_

_**Blinking against shimmering waves of light,**_ Jared tried to focus his eyes. His head pounded painfully at the rows of lights blending together against a background of orange flame. Their heat was melting the blood and filth from his skin, and perspiration trickled down his cheeks in sharp contrast to the biting cold of the dungeon. Sweat stung his eyes, further blurring his vision. As he tried to hear past the rushing sounds in his ears he swayed off balance, feeling the guards grip his arms painfully. They forced him up from his bent over position, allowing him the ability to breathe with less pain though any movement with of his head made the nausea worse. One of them growled under his breath to stand on alert as someone came toward them. It was a dark shadow of a form, one that bore itself swiftly and threateningly. He stood his ground as best he could, telling himself that the beating could not be worse than what he'd already suffered from the two at his side. Concentrating on the fact that one of his prayers had finally been answered as evidenced by his transfer from his cell, he knew the most important one was yet to be fulfilled.

_Aileen…_a voice deep within him called, echoing throughout his foggy mind. Her presence haunted him both in dreams and during the long and tortured hours when sleep fled or was prevented. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen her, struggling to remember the day. Despite the faint scratches he'd recorded upon the dirt-encrusted walls of his cell he found it difficult to count and remember the total length of time since his arrival. He vaguely remembered bits of the arduous journey here but in the ensuing days of interrogations and beatings had lost track of everything that was once familiar to him. Save for her…

"Didn't I order that he be taken unharmed?" a voice boomed from close by. He winced, thinking it somewhat familiar. _Where have I heard that accent before?_

"He fought us, Your Grace," the one at his left explained. Jared flinched at the blow the man received, his presumption of being spared beatings quickly disproved. The man's hold on him was broken.

"_My orders_ are to be obeyed, whether I am absent or present!"

Jared tried to keep his balance. _Llewellyn's voice… _

"Yes, sire—" both guards echoed.

"To the minutest detail—is that _understood?_"

The room filled with assent as others answered in the affirmative. Silently commanding his legs to support him Jared tried to count the steps which took the commander of Snowden away from him. Another fit of shivering overtook him, but the grip upon his right arm tightened. He was tempted to give way before them all, thinking at least they would let him rest if he crumpled to the floor. But then he might an important bit of information. He squinted against the flames before him, finally focusing them into proper perspective.

"And you _Sir Jared_ were to have presented yourself weeks ago," Llewellyn's voice accused as he came back, "at least according to Edward's designs..."

He felt him stop only a pace from him and parted his cracked lips. "I no longer serve the English king," he croaked.

After a moment Llewellyn laughed heartily, as did the others present. A hand slapped down upon his shoulder, nearly knocking him to his knees, but he steeled himself against any further sign of weakness. "I'm glad to hear of that! For a while we all feared you'd accepted his commission to spy on us!"

"No, Your Grace," he said hoarsely, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He found it difficult to swallow with such a dry throat.

"That more than proves you're no longer under his influence," Llewellyn stated. "Unbind him!" he ordered as his steps strolled away. "And sit him down before he falls down!"

Jared felt a chair hit the back of his shins and he was forced down into it. He felt the shackles fall away from his ankles and someone cut the ropes that bound his wrists. So great was his relief that he felt a wave of dizziness and hung his head.

"Get him something to drink—do I have to detail everything to you men?"

"No, Your Grace," one of his guards answered.

When a cup was held to his lips he drank greedily. Before a few swallows it was rudely snatched away.

"Enough!" he was ordered, and had to content himself with rolling the sweet watered wine over his tongue. He and bathed his mouth with it before swallowing, letting it trickle down his throat with blessed relief. Daring to his head back against the upholstery, he closed his eyes in satisfaction.

"Thank you…" he croaked, hating the weak sound of his own voice.

"Summon my physician and ready a room," Llewellyn ordered. "When was the last time he was fed?"

When no one answered Llewellyn's fist pounded the mantle at his side. "Then get him something bland to eat now—I leave for urgent business, and this is what I find upon my return?"

Several pairs of boots marched toward the door and exited, but Jared felt his guards remain at his side. He opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to study Llewellyn's profile. He stood nearby, his attention distracted.

"The next time an important prisoner is captured I want him held under house arrest, not in the dungeons—does everyone _understand_?"

"Aye sir," those who remained acknowledged. Jared heard him sigh mightily. "Although we have much to discuss you're obviously not up to the task," he complained to him. "I'll give you one day to rest and have my physician tend to you."

"How fare my brothers?" Jared wanted to know.

"They've been sent to bring your father back—under guard of course."

_So this is what I'm doing here_, Jared fumed. _To act as bait to lure Father into coming. _

"I've planned and planned for this meeting," Llewellyn mused. "Surely by now you've realized the futility of negotiating with Edward."

When he did not answer Llewellyn sighed deeply. "I'm assuming you've not reported to Edward at all?"

"I have not."

"My, you are easy!" Llewellyn crowed as his men murmured in approval. "And I thought you an uncooperative sort, Jared!"

When he did not reply Llewellyn poured himself a drink. "I'm looking forward to seeing your father again—perhaps upon his arrival we might _all _work out our differences…"

The door opened and Jared heard an elderly voice greet the prince.

"Ah Holmes—I have a prisoner needing your expert care," he announced. Jared was pulled to his feet and turned just in time to see the man scowl in disgust. "My apologies for his condition—but I'll expect your report this day. Guards—see that my physician has everything he needs. Take them to the east wing and post new guards at the door. No one is to come in our out who is not directly involved in the care of this prisoner."

"Aye, Sir," they answered as Jared was led into the corridor once again. Shuffling between he tried to focus his thoughts upon the impending arrival of his father, and no doubt his brothers, he felt a surge of bitterness and anger at their betrayal. Still he vowed to forgive them despite the feelings associated with this attempt, for the pain they had caused him was considerable. Praying for wisdom concerning the more urgent matter of convincing Llewellyn and his father to work out their differences, he added an extra plea for the miracle that somehow they might someday consider working upon their relationship with Edward, at least so far as it would benefit both nations.

Ahead he saw a bustle of activity at the end of the hall, for a door stood open there and various servants were entering and exiting with armloads of supplies all apparently in readiness for his confinement. He felt relief that he was finally free of the dungeons, but did not fool himself with thoughts of gentle recuperative care. He was sure that on the morrow he would be dragged from a much needed time of rest and healing into political meetings in which he was an unwilling participant and, he feared, leader. So it was with faintness of body and soul that he allowed himself to be drawn into the midst of the preparations.

By the time he'd finished bearing the pain of removing his dried and bloody garments, scrubbing and application of burning balms and a thorough examination he was exhausted. When a draught of laudanum was offered him he quickly swallowed it, hoping to alleviate his pain while he was bandaged and humiliated by being dressed and helped into bed. Unable to lie upon a back raw from whipping he buried his face in the pillow and relinquished himself to its soft, clean embrace. He concentrated his thoughts upon his wife, praying that she was safe. When at last he stopped struggling against the blessed oblivion the medication offered, he found himself finally delivered over into the watchful care of his Saviour and Llewellyn's guards.

_**David and Morgan faced the door of their father's study, **_eyeing each other apprehensively. The journey had been long and dangerous with the heavy flurries of snow and threat of lightning strikes. Winter was upon them and they despaired of any plan to lure him into Llewellyn's lair, save but one. Still, he had not moved in that direction before, and it was possible he would refuse. But it was their only hope.

"What if he won't come with us?" Morgan whispered fearfully as David rapped impatiently.

David scowled in disgust. "He'll come—now try to remember what we discussed," he ordered in a harsh whisper.

"But the more lies we tell the more trouble we'll be in when he finds out the truth!" Morgan hissed. "Then we'll have not only Llewellyn's wrath to face, but Father's as well!"

"Then keep your mouth shut and let me talk!" David warned as he knocked again. "Otherwise we'll end up back in the dungeons as before!"

Morgan cringed at the gruff bark to enter which came from within, watching David push open the heavy door. His heart lurched at the sight of the old man's fierce expression as he recognized them, even after their prolonged absence. Guilt concerning Jared flooded through him though he tried to hide it. He still maintained that they should have listened to their older brother, albeit half-brother. Now the time had come to mention his name after years of avoiding doing so. He still feared the clarity of Jared's memory, wondering how much he remembered from that day when they'd left him behind. Facing Jared was an even more threatening prospect, especially in Father's presence, should Llewellyn allow them the opportunity to meet. Even worse, if the truth did come out he was sure that they would be disinherited for their actions. All that would leave them would be a place in Llewellyn's army, and he was not eager to go to war against the king. But unless Jared succeeded, that was exactly what would happen.

They approached their father's massive desk as he stood to tower over them.

"I thought I heard riders," he growled in greeting, his gaze sweeping them with animosity. "Now that you've finally made your way back home tell me—do you come at Edward's bidding, or Llewellyn's?"

David nodded curtly. "It's good to see you, Father—it's been a long time."

"Father," Morgan acknowledged as he looked down at his father's desktop. As usual, it was covered with ledgers, documents and scrolls.

"Well—answer me, for I've no other reason to expect you!"

Morgan studied the deeper lines in his Father's considerably aged appearance, mourning the loss of what amicable relationship they once shared. "We're sorry Father—"

"Edward held us at Westminster until Llewellyn freed us," David interrupted his apology. "So it is at the latter's bidding we come—"

"I know _exactly_ where you've been," he snarled.

David glanced at his brother, momentarily stunned. "You knew we were in Edward's tower?"

"What I _want_ to know is what really happened the day you rode off with your brother."

"Father," David said breathlessly, leaning closer with his hands upon his desk. "Jared is alive, and well, contrary to what we all believed!"

Confused, they noted the change in his expression from anger to grief, despite the news.

"Father?" David repeated as he straightened. "You must believe me—"

"_Believe_ you, when all you do is lie?" he objected. "As I said, I'm waiting for an explanation about what happened that day—and you had better tell me the truth!"

"The important thing is that Jared is alive, and he's waiting for us at Snowden," David stated. "Llewellyn wants us all to meet there."

"Snowden?" he shouted in anger before turning and stalking to the hearth. There he ran a hand through his hair in a gesture which was eerily reminiscent of Jared's. "I never believed your brothers' tales concerning his demise," he sighed. "I would have felt something, had he died that day."

David glanced warningly at Morgan. "Jared was grievously wounded, Father."

He whirled to face them. "Which I am sure was _your_ responsibility!"

"But he was in charge," Morgan protested.

"He trusted you, against my advice!" their father railed. "And what good did it do him, given your betrayal!"

"He suffered an accident, Father," David explained, spreading his arms. "His horse fell, trapping him beneath it. His leg was badly broken, deformed and useless, and the bleeding was profuse—"

"And you _left_ him there!" he accused, stalking toward them. "No Cymri leaves behind a brother, not even a dead one!"

"Moving him would have caused him to bleed to death, and he was very close to that happening," David explained, shaking his head. "With the king's guards to deal with we barely escaped! We had to think of the younger lads—"

"You say it was an accident, when the plan was to have entered the keep or tournament! How was it that this never occurred? Edward would have given you an audience—"

"We hadn't time for tournament, Father," David tried to explain. "Jared underestimated the competition, and there was no time—"

"Then how was it that he had this 'accident'?" he said, waving impatiently as he turned away. "I knew your support of the plan was half-hearted, but you owed Jared your respect, as my eldest son!"

"He is not your _son!_" David shouted, faltering when he saw his father's face blanch. "Would you have preferred we'd all been captured and thrown in the dungeons?"

"Jared was too far gone to save—" Morgan added soberly, flinching when their father crossed his arms and lifted his chin.

"Then why did I receive reports of him riding about the Marches as Edward's chief administrator?" he said with disgust.

"What?" David shouted, shaking his head. "We saw how badly he was hurt—"

"Well he obviously recovered!"

"Father, please let us explain," Morgan pleaded, looking to David.

"There is nothing to explain—you betrayed him, left him for dead and in effect forced him to serve the King!"

"He was going to sell our people out to the King!" David argued. "Edward is fortifying our lands as we speak!"

"Can you even begin to think what that must have _done_ to him?" their father said stonily. "To feel what he must have felt, having his own brothers leave him behind?"

"If you knew he was alive why did you not ransom him?" David countered, his expression settling into mocking confidence. "Is _that_ not a deeper betrayal, Father?"

Morgan watched his father's eyes light with burning disapproval. "You know very well that I do not negotiate with Edward!"

"But he's no longer serving Edward," Morgan soothed, nodding to David. "And now you can see him yourself, at Snowden! Llewellyn is taking care of him and expecting us—"

"Do you actually believe that fox would treat him any better—the son of his most vocal and bitter rival?"

David leaned forward to extend the missive from Llewellyn. "He wants to set aside our differences for the greater threat of Edward's conquest," he stated. "And don't forget, Jared knows and understands how Edward thinks."

He snatched the note and broke the seal, scanning it quickly. He looked up. "I've no proof that Jared is even there, unless you can witness seeing him yourselves."

David shook his head. "We have Llewellyn's word."

"Father, I know you'd risk going," Morgan added, "even with the slightest possibility of seeing Jared." To his surprise his father's countenance lost some of its hardness.

"You're right, Morgan," he sighed tiredly, turning to clear his desk. "I will go, but only for Jared's sake. Now ready yourselves to leave this night—I'll meet you at the stables."

_**Placing a hand over her heart she took a slow, deep breath.**_ Surprised at how strongly her distress was affecting her she waited until the sick, weak feeling passed before hiding her hand beneath her friar's robe. Glancing at the hot ovens lining the western wall she knew their heat was partially to blame as were the long hours she spent working to keep up with the Cistercian brothers. They were disciplined hard workers who put in long hours without complaint. Not only did she find disguising herself here trying, she missed Jared and grew increasingly lonelier with each new day. As a woman living among celibates she found herself in virtual isolation, avoided even at mealtimes and in daily prayers. Yet whenever she felt like protesting at her newly found lot in life she was reminded that these same brothers had provided part of Jared's ransom in order to secure his release. And for that she would be forever grateful.

With a soft sigh of resignation she bent back over her kneading, counting this the 16th day since Jared had been captured by Llewellyn's men. Uri's scouts had sent back word that he was being held at Snowden, and had remained there working covertly to bribe and plan for his release. Despite their efforts and her prayers no word or demand regarding him had issued forth, nor had anyone south of the Marches reported news being delivered to Edward concerning his most valued spy. What little comfort Uri had offered in insisting that it was a good sign his body had not turned up she continued to be plagued with anxiety and distress.

Uri had insisted she stay here, fearing attempts might be made to capture her and use her to force Jared to comply with whatever demands were being placed upon him. She had to admit that this reasoning was sound, so despite her reluctance to remain here hidden away and helpless to do anything else she'd managed to blend in. Still, his continued absence and the long nights without him wore hard on her nerves. For the first time she objected to hiding her identity, preferring to take pride in her femininity now that it had truly been awaken.

_I am a married woman! _she protested inwardly as she punched the dough and turned it onto the floured board. Pulling and shoving its yeasty mass into submission, she blew away a stray tendril of hair that had escaped her hood but eyed her surroundings to be sure no one had seen it. The day was nearly spent and she looked forward not to evening prayers and dinner but to the anticipated arrival of Elda and Nathaniel's arrival, supposedly to purchase supplies. It had been too long since she had seen their faces, or even Uri's disgruntled scowl. She thought of her earlier attempts to escape and make her way back to Jared's house on the cliff, only to be thwarted by one of Uri's men who had been commissioned to assume the identity of the brothers and guard her, all without her prior knowledge. But though they were vigilant she still entertained plans of getting away, even if only a short time. She longed to spend even a day in Jared's home, where memories of him would surround her and comfort her.

_Perhaps I can coax Elda to take me back _she mused, turning the dough out again. If not she could always pretend to retire early, then hide in their wagon until they were far from this place and it would be too late to drive her back. Smiling at the thought, she lifted the ball of dough and plopped it into the bowl, covering it and setting it aside to rise in the warmth of the kitchen.

Outside the noon bell rang, signaling lunch time. Quickly wiping her hands, she started toward the foyer, passing the windows just in time to see a wagon being unloaded out by the barn. Wondering why no one had summoned her before, she studied its worn wheels and decided it must be theirs. At the sound of voices she drew back, covertly watching the door until they appeared carrying sacks of grain. She watched Elda gaze toward the kitchens as Nathaniel loaded their supplies, and together they started toward the main building. She waited just inside the door until they drew near, then peered out only long enough for her to notice her there. Then she moved away from the entrance and hid just inside the coat room.

The men entered as Elda told her husband she wanted to use the washroom and would meet him for lunch in the dining hall. He called back his intention to save her a place at his side then followed the others down the hall toward the dining hall. Aileen darted into the lavatory and waited until the door opened, then rushed into Elda's waiting arms. Hugging each other tightly, she felt tears spring to her eyes and choked down a sob.

"You've missed me, little friar," Elda whispered to her before easing her away. "Let me have a look at you," she whispered, pushing back her hood to cup her cheek. She smiled. "Why you are positively glowing—the brothers have been good to you after all!"

Aileen brushed the moisture from the corner of her eye and shook her head. "I've been baking bread and feel flushed from all the work," she said truthfully.

Elda frowned. "Do they work you too hard, for I was concerned about that—"

"No, it's fine," Aileen reassured her, gripping her forearms as she looked into her eyes. "It's just that I—I miss him terribly."

Elda nodded. "I too miss him," she admitted, putting an arm around her. "But there has been no word, I'm sorry to say."

Aileen was troubled. "Uri hasn't heard anything from his men?"

"Not of late, though the snows have closed the pass."

Aileen felt panicked at the thought of waiting until spring to see Jared. "Surely they melt from time to time," she reasoned.

Elda shook her head. "You must be strong, little one—he would want you to be." The concern in her face was deep, and Aileen felt immediately guilty.

"I'm sorry—I'll be fine, truly!" she said as brightly as she could. "It's just that I worry for his safety."

"As I am sure he does for yours," she said as she studied her carefully. "Are you sleeping well enough?"

Aileen looked away. "Not well—though better, I confess, when my workday is longer."

"Well, you look a bit peaked now that the heat from the ovens has worn off," Elda sighed. "Why don't we dine together in private, so that we can talk? The brothers won't mind at all, I'm sure—"

"No," Aileen interrupted, taking her arm. "We can talk afterward under the guise of you helping me wash up."

"All right," she agreed, and they pushed open the door to head to the dining hall. Refraining from talking as they walked, they soon entered the large hall and took their places at the end of the far table, where Nathaniel had reserved a place for his wife. He glanced up as they came up and seated themselves, nodding silently to her.

She held her tongue while the quiet conversation hummed beneath the sound of serving utensils and requests to pass different foods. The room was warm and she felt flushed again, choosing a hefty helping of stew which she ate heartily. At least until she reached the few bits of meat that swam in the bottom of her bowl. Chewing less heartily, she looked up and paused, her stomach in knots. To her surprise the roomed dimmed a bit and she hung her head, taking a deep breath.

"Are you well?" Elda whispered, refraining from touching her arm.

"I think—" she tried to answer but could not. Finally swallowing the meat, she nodded and stabbed a piece of carrot, forking it into her mouth. She ate in silence, listening to Nathaniel discuss the price of grain with the monk at his other side. But it seemed that the meat seemed to feel stuck somewhere between her throat and chest, causing her mild discomfort. As she continued eating, her stomach growling with hunger, she began to feel that strange queasiness again.

_It's only because his aunt and uncle are here and he is not, _she told herself. _Or perhaps I'm nervous about hiding in their wagon, and what they'll do when they find out I escaped…_

"Word has it that Edward's men were seen scouting beyond Flint and down the coast," the brother in charge of the kitchens was saying as he eyed Nathaniel meaningfully. "Better keep a close eye on their presence."

"Aye," Nathaniel agreed as he turned to nod to Elda. "We shall be on the lookout."

Aileen felt her stomach turn over and covered her mouth. As Elda turned toward her she got up and rushed out, dashing to the sink where she emptied the contents of her stomach as she shook with weakness. A hand rested upon her back as she was sick again, and when she gripped the edge of the sink her hood was eased off her head.

"There, there," Elda soothed quietly, waiting until she finished and reached out to cup some water into her mouth. When she had patted her lips and straightened, she turned to face her.

"It must be something in the meat which didn't agree with me," she said quietly, feeling embarrassed. Already her stomach was ready for food, and she knew she must devote more time to prayer in order to fight back the fears which were attacking her thoughts.

"Perhaps you worry too much, Aileen," Elda said softly, smoothing back the hair that had fallen from her pinned up braid.

"I cannot help it," she admitted, feeling as if she might cry again. "I'm just not as strong as everyone thinks—I miss him terribly."

"Or could it be," Elda began, her concern vanishing as a smile lit her eyes, "that you have someone else about whom you should be concerned?"

Aileen stared at her in confusion. "I do worry about Father sometimes, though—"

"No, little one," Elda breathed, placing her hand on Aileen's stomach, "I mean someone much closer than Jared or your father."

Aileen stared into her knowing smile, her heart beginning to pound. Had it been so long since she'd counted? Her monthly flux—when was the last time she'd suffered it? Had time flown by so quickly, with all the traumatic changes she'd experienced?

"When did you last flow?" Elda asked gently, guiding her toward the door. They stepped out into the cold winter noon and she turned to face her.

"It was before the island," she admitted, blushing profusely despite Elda's gentle laughter. She hugged her tightly and began to praise the Almighty.

"Jared will be thrilled," she chuckled, finally easing away to stare at her. She shook her head. "I thought I recognized that wonderful glow! That explains your stomach feeling upset—"

"But I am hungry at the same time!" Aileen gasped, gripping her arms. "Do you think that I could possibly be—that Jared and I—?"

"I am sure of it—how could I not notice it? Now I want you to go and pack what few things you have here—you are coming home with us today! I will go tell Nathaniel, and he will see to it that the brothers have quite a different explanation, if any at all. The fewer that know about this the better—

now go!"

_**Llewellyn shoved open the door to the chamber **_and entered without a knock. Jared stiffened and looked up from the parchments spread before him. He watched in silence as his captor strolled leisurely around the room, his narrowed gaze taking in every detail.

"I see you've finally gotten to the maps," Llewellyn stated as he watched him pull himself to his feet. When Jared stood as straight as his aching ribs allowed.

"I am reviewing them a second time," he admitted tiredly. He'd been forced to begin reviewing all the required materials delivered to him by Llewellyn's chief advisor, a boorish man named Welles.

Llewellyn nodded brusquely. "Good—I trust you are feeling more yourself these days?"

Jared watched him lean a hand upon the desk as he gazed down at his notes. "I doubt I'll ever attain that status," he admitted, leaving off the implied "here" he thought better than expressing.

Missing nothing, Llewellyn looked up and toyed with his beard. "My physician is excellent, though

perhaps not as good as Edward's...sit down, man! You mustn't overdo it as you are obviously still recuperating."

"I'm fine," Jared said stiffly, ignoring the irony of his circumstances. He'd been allowed one night's sleep before being ordered to work the next morning. He'd been groggy from the laudanum and had found it a challenge just to focus his eyes. Two days he'd been forced to read through plans and documents in bed until the physician returned the third day and helped him to the desk.

Llewellyn leaned a bit closer, causing him to clench his jaw in protest. The man simply stood too close for his comfort, and he suspected a subtle attraction was at play. This made him even more uneasy. "You look a bit pale still," he mused, smiling sardonically.

"I have a strong objection to your taking the Marches," he said just to put some distance between them. At Llewellyn's affronted expression, he continued. "It will cause undue unrest among the chieftains there."

"Really?" Llewellyn snarled before he started his pacing. "And what do you suggest I do in my efforts to _unite _our people against Edward?"

"Let them weigh the shift in the balance of power you'll accomplish here first," he suggested, slowly lowering himself back to the chair. He pointed to deClare's lands. "You would be better served solidifying your influence in the south and west first."

"And you think the Marcher lords will follow suit?" Llewellyn huffed.

"deClare enjoys some influence over them, and is your strongest supporter," he explained. "Why not let him work among them to influence in your favour?"

The pacing stopped as Llewellyn stared out of the single window. "You may have a point…though deClare's greed is a matter to be dealt with."

"Then weigh the value of his support and influence over whatever rewards he demands," Jared stated without enthusiasm.

Llewellyn turned and held out his hands. "You are brilliant—now what advice would you give concerning Edward's building programs in the North?"

Jared sighed, rubbing his temple to ease the pain in his head. "I haven't thought of anything yet."

"Well get on with it, we haven't much time! Spring is only a few months away!"

"Perhaps my father will have a suggestion," Jared proposed cynically as he eased his head back against the chair. "Assuming he heeds your summons."

Llewellyn laughed and crossed his arms. "Ah but he already has," he breathed, resuming his pacing. "Oh, did I not tell you? He arrived last night and though he's very anxious to see you, I thought it wise to sequester him and your brothers in the other part of the castle for now."

Jared felt a surge of anger at his coy behavior but held his peace. So Father had come at last, as had his brothers. The prospect of facing them only caused him more anger, but he hid his feelings from Llewellyn's watchful gaze. "Until I give you whatever answers you seek," he stated knowingly.

"Well it seems you've had a good start," he was told as the pacing resumed. "I might even arrange a little meeting with you all on the morrow, but not before dinner. No need in wasting a day's work, eh?"

"Of course not," he answered bitterly, gathering his notes together.

"By the way, there is another matter which I feel we must discuss, Jared," he stated as he came toward the desk. He watched him lean his hip on the edge as he lifted a hand and studied his nails. "It seems my physician, upon careful examination of your person discovered something which…how shall I say this delicately, presents a problem?"

Jared tilted his head and glanced up, hating the sly grin on the man's face. "Oh?"

"It seems you've kept a little secret from me, and no doubt from the rest of the world," he whispered conspiratorially.

"Is that right?" he replied, playing along. Deep inside a warning sounded, and he realized his future was considerably more uncertain than he'd previously thought.

"It seems," Llewellyn whispered, leaning dangerously close, "that you've hidden from us your true identity, ap-Ryce."

Jared gazed back down at his notes and pulled a map forward, seemingly bored with the conversation.

"My physician is a capable and well experienced man," he continued, "not to mention meticulous. And it seems he's taken note of a subtle difference in you which, shall I say, sets you apart from other men?"

Jared stiffened. "Why not just say it?" he suggested, looking up.

Llewellyn smiled evilly. "How could you fail to mention that you 'are a _Jew?_"

Jared smiled back. "It is not a normal topic of conversation in diplomatic circles," he stated simply.

Llewellyn leaned back. "Don't you see, Jared? This changes everything, and certainly involves matters of diplomacy—or haven't you heard of Edward's plan to declare the expulsion of your people from his kingdom?"

Jared sighed tiredly as he gazed back at the map. "I am well aware of his entertaining such a plan."

Llewellyn stabbed a finger into the map, and he studied the spot where a small cluster of islands nestled off the coast. "I am sure it will be more than just a plan, so you'd do well to heed my proposal if you do not wish the secret to be publicized, or to have that little wife of yours placed in harm's way because of your little secret."

Jared ground his jaw at the thought of what Aileen might suffer because of him. He also considered the fact that under Neal's no such discovery had been made, which raised his suspicions concerning Llewellyn's intent on having him examined him to such a degree while he lay unaware. For many days fever had wracked his body with chills and pain, but there had been no reason for anyone to tend to him in such an intimate manner.

"All right," he agreed, looking up. "I will do as you ask and throw in my lot with you—only on the condition that you escort her here, and let my family go."

Llewellyn laughed heartily. "You are hardly in a position to make demands, Jared!"

"No but I can keep my thoughts to myself and let your advisers lead you down a reckless path, one which I am sure Edward will be happy to take advantage of."

Llewellyn stared at him a moment and conceded. "Very well—but I expect you to garner your father's and your clan's support to my side."

"That may not be possible—"

"It had better be, if you want your own demands met."

Jared stood slowly, rising to his full height to tower over Llewellyn. "If you value my advice you will see that she is brought here unharmed."

"Jared, please—one thing at a time? At present the snows bar the way—be patient! We have until spring to work out a plan. Then you shall have your bride, and I will even see to it that you both have a safe place to hide from Edward."

Jared nodded. "All right; I will do as you wish, to the best of my abilities."

"Good—now perhaps we might settle the problem of your father's support? I will, of course, allow you some time to reacquaint yourselves."

"In private?"

"Yes, of course—I'm not that thoughtless, you know. I'm well aware of how long you've been apart. What better way to accomplish my own goals than have you first accomplish yours? And your father will, I predict, be most grateful that I've brought you together once again."

Jared watched him turn and dismiss himself, and when the door was locked behind him, he lowered his head to his hand in defeat.

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


	21. Chapter 21 The Covenant

_**Chapter 21 The Covenant **__This is the final chapter-I'm so sorry it took so long to  
complete! Now on to with my sequel for The Hills Have Eyes _

_**Rising at the rap upon his door, Jared stared at the polished wood a moment, focusing his thoughts**_ before drawing breath into his lungs. His heart pounded with emotion but he pursed his lips, steeling himself for what he sensed would be a formidable task. He had to be convincing—there was no turning back. After hours of silent deliberation he'd made his choice, for as far as he could discern it was the only way. What he was about to do would cost him a great deal, and he wanted the matter settled as quickly as possible. Thankfully Llewellyn would not give them long, and for that he had to admit he was grateful. It would make his task easier.

"Enter," he called out, clasping his hands behind his back as he faced the flames dancing in the hearth. Outside the wind howled around the tower in which he was held. Beneath its force he heard the door open and close. Senses heightened, he noted the sigh of disappointment before footsteps came slowly toward him and halted.

"Will you not even turn to face me, son?"

Reeling inwardly from the flood of emotions that voice prompted, he clenched his jaw and waited, After a moment his stepfather laid a hand upon his shoulder and squeezed it.

"I've missed you, Jared, more than I thought I could—"

"Dispense with sentiment, shall we?" he interrupted, turning his head to look at him. He'd aged considerably, and wore an expression of grief that surprised him. Ignoring it, he shrugged off the hand upon his shoulder and walked back toward his desk. "We've much to discuss, and not long to do it."

Thick white brows shot up as his stepfather followed him, frowning in disapproval when their gazes met. "The only_issue_ between us is your brothers' betrayal, of which I knew nothing until it was done."

"I disagree," he shot back, stabbing a finger into the document lying before him. "There are far more important matters at hand, matters which affect the lives and safety of many."

"I apologize for your brothers' behavior," he continued, "though as you well know they acted of their own accord—"

"Your sons are no brothers of mine—"

"I've given them hell and punished them accordingly, Jared!" Evan insisted. "What they did was unforgiveable—"

"I forgive them, as I must," Jared stated, "and as I am bound to do so before God."

"Well never let them know that, they'll only laugh in your face," his stepfather warned, a sly smile on his face. For the first Jared felt that he was seeing the man as he really was, not as he'd imagined him. And certainly not as the kind man he knew as a boy."But forget the past," he continued. "We must hope, despite how badly things look at present."

Jared studied him a moment. "The only choice we have before us is to join Llewellyn's forces, or invite civil war!"

His stepfather eyed him sternly. "One would think you'd have used your time at Edward's court to our advantage. Judging by the reports I received from my contacts in the Marches, it appeared you were."

"I cannot turn him from his plans of expansion—you of all people should appreciate that fact," Jared said quietly."

"Perhaps you did not invoke your legendary powers of persuasion."

Ignoring that comment, Jared expelled a breath of frustration. "At present we find ourselves Llewellyn's prisoners— facing that truth will enable us to react accordingly."

"But Llewellyn's trust is easily won," Evan said dismissively. "All we must do is acknowledge his position and give him our word of support."

Jared lifted the document he'd signed only moments before. "Words no longer hold weight here—he insists upon a signed covenant. We must sign it, and accept his terms."

Snatching it from him he scanned the contents and slapped it back down upon the desk. Crossing his arms, he eyed Jared meaningfully. "Your mother desired that you and I be like father and son—"

"Leave her out of this," he warned, sliding the document toward him. "Agree to support Llewellyn and we leave this place with our lives. If we do not there will be no future, for either of us. His patience has worn thin."

"You can't be serious, Jared—I'll never sign a covenant with that man!"

"He's already won support among the other chieftains," Jared reminded him. "The time has come to choose—either him or Edward."

"Edward at least has his wits about him!" he bellowed, turning and stalking toward the fire. "How did this self-proclaimed 'prince' ever manage to gain such power?"

Jared shook his head in frustration. "I spent two years of forced service in Edward's realm—I can assure you that wits or none his intention is to conquer this land and every other land bordering his and beyond, without care for loss of life."

Evan turned to stare at him critically. "If I'm not mistaken you were the one with the plan to appeal to Edward for self-rule. Tell me, what happened to that Jared?"

"He was betrayed and left to rot in the wood, and later denied ransom."

"Surely you know that your brothers acted without my knowledge—"

"I know nothing at all, _father_—save for the fact that I apparently failed to meet your expectations and was therefore cut off."

"I had to be hard on you—as the eldest you had to set an example for your brothers."

"Your _sons _have never respected my example, so your plan was futile."

"I expect more from you, Jared, even though you continually disappoint me—especially now!"

"Consider yourself relieved of that duty! Sign Llewellyn's covenant and we shall part ways as soon as possible!"

"I will not yield my support to a rebel and a madman—"

"At least he's not a _coward_."

For a moment they glared at each other in silence, then Evan rebounded. "What of your inheritance? It will be swallowed up by his greediness for land even before you can win it!"

"I have already laid claim to it, no thanks to you."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Has he manipulated the legal system in order to bribe you into supporting him? His tricks will never hold up in a court of law, not with the local justices."

"It was not necessary to manipulate anything."

"But you cannot legally claim your father's lands without satisfying the stipulations of—"

"I have already married a woman of my own choosing," he shot back, "and not for the sake of my inheritance."

"So this is what has changed you—you believe you are in love! Now I see it: he must be threatening her life or you would never have turned—"

"Just sign the document!" Jared insisted, interrupted when the door flew open, admitting four guards who entered his chamber and surrounded them. Taking his stepfather's arms they looked to Jared for orders, but he shook his head.

"He's not ready to sign yet, but give him time," he sighed, extending the document to the chief guard. "Take this with you—I've fulfilled my part of the agreement, and now wish to be left in peace."

He nodded and they left immediately, his stepfather protesting. "Don't believe Llewellyn—he's not to be trusted! You'll regret what you've done, mark my words!"

When the door shut behind them Jared sat down heavily and leaned his head back against the chair. Closing his eyes, he felt exhaustion overtaking him. His head throbbed painfully as the ache in his heart spread throughout his chest. The details of the encounter raced through his mind, accusing him.

"Father forgive me," he prayed quietly, shaking his head. "I have been disrespectful, and have deceived the man who raised me, the man you sent to be my protector. I pray that someday he will somehow understand…"

_**Neal Carrick stared silently at the young woman**_ holding her basket, her face drawn and thin. Her expression was troubled, and her posture was that of dejection. But there was no doubt in his mind that it was Aileen. And she was standing not more than a 50 meters from the place where he and Artus hid in a nearby alley.

"Was I right—it's her, isn't it?" Artus whispered close at hand.

He nodded, unable to take his eyes off her. _Dear God—what has happened to her?_

"Let's move," Rhys whispered, leading them back through the alley and out into the crowd. Keeping a close eye on her, they followed as she slowly made her way back to the cart in which she'd arrived.

How long Jared had left her this time, he wondered, not that he blamed is new son-in-law. He knew the demands Edward had placed upon Jared, unreasonable demands which Artus had further detailed to him along the journey here. He restrained himself from the desire to go to her and tell her he was taking her home, and followed at a distance behind his escorts. They saw Aileen stop to place her basket in back of the cart and go around the side to climb up into the seat, an effort she completed not without some difficulty. He studied her carefully with a physician's eyes, noting how stiff her movements were. She curled her arm around her middle as if she suffered from pain there, but when the older woman came out of the mill with a delivery boy, Aileen's face lit up. The delivery boy dumped a few sacks into the back for them before the older woman climbed up and took the reins from Aileen.

"She's not well," he whispered to Artus, "I need to go to her."

"Not here," was the answer, and though he began to voice his objections he realized the need to be patient. They did not know who the woman with her was, nor did they know where Aileen was staying. Which was why they decided to follow them. Once the cart lurched into motion they turned to their waiting horses and mounted quickly. Rhys had brought the horses to the back corner of the livery, which was situated at the edge of the road. They rode some distance behind, keeping to the woods bordered the road.

Since their arrival no one had been able to find out anything about Jared, nor had inquiries using his name produced anything but gossip. The consensus here was that he was a traitor and still rode in service for Edward in the Marcher lands. Even Edward's contact in Flint had not reported a contact with him, which encouraged them. If he was in the area, his presence was not suspected, which was why they needed to ask Aileen to be sure.

_**Rising slowly from a bent position, she gripped the handles of her bag **_and continued to collect whatever dry kindling she could find for the fire. As she did she felt the baby move, and smoothed a hand over her slightly protruding middle.

"Shhh, love," she whispered, "it's all right, I'll be fine—I'm just missing your father…"

Swiping at the tear threatening to slip down her cheek she continued working, glancing toward the cabin and wondering how hard a winter they would face. Each day she arose the sickness met her, forcing her to fast until mid day when her stomach would finally settle. Having Elda stay with her was a blessing, though, and as she gazed toward the lamp burning at the window she prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for her company. Her heart ached for Jared, but she forced her mind to stay clear of that subject just to maintain the shaky sense of peace she'd worked so hard to find. It was difficult when everywhere she looked there were reminders of their time together, however brief it had been. The long hours of night were most difficult, for the memories were strongest there in his bedchamber. She often felt his presence just before finally falling asleep, and her dreams were often filled with him.

"I must stop," she whispered to herself, forcing her mind to concentrate on the present. She walked toward a mound of tangled branches at the edge of the wood, hoping to find dryer wood. But as she drew closer she felt the hair at the back of her neck prickle. Pausing in her tracks, she gazed around the perimeter of the cleared land but saw nothing. Perhaps an animal was foraging for food in the wood, now that the first snow had already dusted the frozen ground. Continuing on, she reached out to snap off a limb, breaking it into pieces to fit in the bag. Again the feeling of being watched heightened, and she looked up, gasping in surprise at the man standing by a large oak. He raised a hand and called her name softly.

"Aileen," she heard her name, spoken only loud enough for her to hear. Recognizing it she dropped her bag in surprise.

"_Father!" _

He held out his arms and she rushed toward him, grabbing him tightly as he choked her name again. Holding onto him she leaned back to stare at his beloved face.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped, her spirits immediately lifting. "How did you know where to find me?"

He reached up to tuck a tendril of her hair back into her scarf. "I had to see you, my dear," he whispered, nodding back over one shoulder "Artus and Rhys are here with me."

She stared into the growing darkness, seeing two shadowed forms among the trees. "What are they doing here?"

He gripped her arms. "Edward sent us to spy on Jared…it was the only way I could get to see you."

"He's not here, Father! He was captured by Llewellyn months ago!"

Neal heard the pain in her voice and put his arm around her shoulders. "And you've been alone all this time?"

She nodded, glancing back toward the cabin. "You cannot come in?"

He shook his head. "We may have been followed—you mustn't tell anyone you've seen us."

"I won't—then Llewellyn didn't contact Edward about him?"

Neal frowned. "Not as far as we know. He must be holding Jared to force him to support his cause."

"That won't be an easy task," she said, shaking her head.

"You look unwell, Aileen," Neal stated, studying her in the dim lighting. "You're too thin—"

"I'm carrying his child, Father," she smiled. "Do not worry—it is only the morning sickness."

Neal stared at her a moment. "I'm to be a grandfather? Why that's wonderful—but you must try to eat to remain strong. And when your time comes I must return to help you!"

"Might you come here, Father? I cannot leave, in case Jared returns."

He paused a moment, then nodded. Turning to guide her into the wood, he reunited her with Artus, whom she hugged, and then shook Rhys's hand. Hushed words were exchanged concerning the fact that Jared had never contacted Edward's people, nor had he planned to. They briefly formulated a plan before deciding to part.

"I've been gone too long as well," she agreed, glancing back at the cabin. "Elda will be worried, and Jon will soon come looking for me."

"Jon?"

"One of Jared's clansmen—his cousin Uri assigned him to guard me, though I must admit I dislike having one."

"It's good you are protected, with Jared absent," Artus whispered. "We will do all we can to find his whereabouts and condition. Perhaps Edward will ransom him back."

She shook her head. "I believe it's too late for that—Jared holds an important position among his people, though he does not support Llewellyn."

Rhys edged closer, his eye on the horizon. "We must go," he said meaningfully, nodding to Aileen.

"We must return to Edward," Neal stated. "Come with us—"

"No, Father!" she whispered, gripping his hands. "I would miss Jared, should he return …"

He studied her a moment, then nodded. "I understand…but what about the baby? When will I see you again?"

She looked to Artus, who frowned. "We must discuss this with Edward."

"This is my home now," she pleaded. "Perhaps Father could come and stay? I am sure Jared's aunt and uncle would welcome his coming.'

"But what of his father?" Neal asked.

"Jared's father was killed many years ago, as was his mother—this is his real family."

Neal nodded to Artus's gesture that they leave. "Go back inside, it's getting cold...we will see each other again my dear, God willing."

She hugged him for a moment, then Artus and even Rhys. "Thank you both—please take care and return safely. I pray that we meet again someday soon."

Artus nodded curtly. "Take care of the little one, Mouse."

"I will," she agreed, watching them disappear into the wood. "God speed."

To her surprise Jon came up slowly behind her, staring off after them.

"I thought you were in the barn with the animals," she stated, taking his arm. "Could you take the kindling for me?"

He reached for the bag, eyeing her meaningfully. "Who were they?"

"My father, and an old friends of mine."

"From Edward's lands?"

She nodded. "He sent them to see if Jared made contact with Edward's man in Flint."

"I see… I should have accompanied you to market—"

"Don't be concerned, Jon—though they are loyal to Edward, they respect and like Jared a great deal."

"And now they know where his family lives."

"They would never disclose the way here, I'm sure."

He studied her a moment. "I am forced to trust your judgment."

"Edward needs Jared," she tried to explain. "He expects him to spy on Llewellyn, discern his weakness."

He shook his head. "Then Edward is not all that bad, as long as he allows us to hold our lands."

"Jared nearly convinced him of that—but now, I'm not so sure."

"Come," he urged her. "You shouldn't be out here in the cold—both Jared and Uri will have my head."

She smiled up at him, starting back toward the cabin. She could clearly imagine both men doing that very thing, and sighed at the thought.

_**November, 1277**_

_**Jared turned his horse and halted, eyes scanning the hordes of displaced and wounded**_ crowding the wharf. The latest battle had left many refugees in its wake, many eager to leave and start new lives somewhere else. The air was filled with smoke and the stench of illness, and he lifted a hand to pull the mask up over his nose. Pressing the bandage tighter against his arm, he was thankful that he'd managed to staunch the flow of blood with its tight binding. Looking up, he squinted at the distant landscape, his vision still affected by the head wound he'd suffered while fighting all along the coastline. It had left him with a nearly constant ache that he sensed only rest and time would relieve, but despite his wounds he was filled with renewed energy—his service to Llewellyn was finally over, and as for his debt to Edward, he considered it canceled by breach of trust.

In July the king's forces had invaded the North, accompanied by thousands of his own people who had chosen loyalty to the Crown. After all his efforts to unite them Edward's strength had prevailed, and beneath its assault Prince Llewellyn had finally surrendered. All that the prince retained now was his title and the land of Gwynedd. It had been a crushing defeat, and Jared knew that had Llewellyn possessed a more noble and predictable character he might have been able to lead the people into victory. But that had not been the case.

With a sigh of regret he turned back to face the coast, trying to get his bearings while praying once again that his message had reached Aileen. He'd paid a great deal of money to ensure it was delivered by a trusted agent, and now it was just a matter of time to see whether it would be answered. Though he was a fugitive and in danger of being captured by Edward's men to be tried for treason, he was confident of his escape plan. Llewellyn, to his credit, had made good his word by deeding him an isolated island in a neutral chain of islands off the coast as a safe refuge. All that must be done was to wait for Aileen to be escorted there, with Uri's help of course.

_Aileen…_how he longed to see her again, even if he would be hard pressed to make up to her the past year of separation. He was prepared to face her ire, planned to court her all over again and properly this time, if she allowed him the opportunity. He could almost imagine her there on Carawyhin, perhaps gazing out into the same sea he was. She would be safe there with the rest of his family and clan, for only when the weather was completely clear could its outline be seen from the shore. It had to be this way, he knew, until Edward's influence was accepted and established. Grieving the loss of his mother's lands, he hoped that someday they might return there, though they now fell within the realm of the Crown. Still, his father's lands were his at last, and would need to be inspected and restored, if necessary. There they could settle permanently and start a new life in peace.

A hand grasped his bag, startling him. He reached down and shoved it away, turning his mount at the same time and riding from the docks. There was still time to ride into the town and sell his horse to buy much needed supplies and clothing before he met the fishing vessel that would take him to the island. It had cost him an exorbitant amount of money to keep his passage a secret, but the money he'd been given as compensation would see him through for a while. He could see how desperate people were, and with that in mind he rode toward the livery to make the sale as quickly and quietly as possible. Once he was afoot he would no longer attract as much attention.

_**Aileen gripped the edge of the boat as Jon stepped out**_, his huge frame a dark silhouette against the moon's light. It rocked dangerously as she clutched Micah close beneath the warmth of the heavy shawl. His little hand touched her chin as she rose somewhat stiffly, taking Jon's hand and jumping down onto the sandy shore. While he secured the line around a boulder she stood gazing up at the cliff. The wind had died from a gale to a stiff breeze, and she fought it to keep her hood on and her scarf away from her face. Unable to see any sign of life, she heard Jon tell her to wait while he checked for a way up and nodded as he picked up her overstuffed bag and strode off toward the base of the cliff.

He amazed her, this quiet man who'd seen her safely through the past year, protecting her father on his way from the Marches to the cabin to deliver her son. He had been there in the background of her life all this time, and though she was happy to be reuniting with Jared, she knew she would miss her guard. As he lifted an arm and waved for her to follow, she felt her spirits soar at the prospect of that reunion.

_He's here somewhere, _she thought with a thrill of excitement as they started up the trail which led to the top of the rocks. Judging from his missive, he would have already been here a week. It would be wonderful to see his face, especially when she introduced him to Micah, the son she had borne to him without his knowing of his existence. How would he react, she wondered? And how would Micah?

"Steady," Jon said, grasping her arm as she slipped on a wet rock. How he'd spied the trail she'd never know, nor how he'd managed to row the width of the strait in such choppy waters. It seemed very clear to her that her course was set by an unseen hand, for Jared had survived, her baby had been safely delivered by her father, and they had a safe place toward which to flee. It was up to her to keep trusting in the protection they'd already benefitted from, and she intended to do just that.

Huffing from their exertion she stood by Jon's side as they scanned the plateau stretched before them. The island was much larger than she'd imagined, even larger than Carawyhin had been. Waves of soft dune grass swayed before them, and stars lit the black canopy of the sky. There were woods and scrub brush at the edge of the meadow, and the trees were stunted in growth no doubt from the winds. Micah struggled against his bindings until she kissed his cheek and cooed to him. His eyes drifted close, and she knew he was exhausted from their travels. Surely he would soon fall to sleep, for she had fed him beneath her heavy shawl as they surged across the water to this place.

"There's light coming from the wood over there," Jon stated, pointing to the forest off to their right. "Ready?"

She nodded and followed him with a grin. "Your senses are too keen," she commented. "Whatever would I do without you?"

He turned his head as they walked. "You'll have your husband to watch over you now," he said, his teeth flashing a white smile in the darkness.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile!" she said happily. "I'm sure you'll be relieved to be done with the job, but God bless you for it."

"I do confess to a longing to go home," he admitted, nodding toward the light shining through the trees. "And that must be yours."

Once in the forest they were shielded from the wind, and as they followed the faint trail a low built structure came into view. It appeared to be made of logs and stretched a width twice the size of the cabin that had been Jared's home as a child. At its center was a window where the lamp shone forth its light like a beacon across a sea of darkness. A soft mossy carpet greeted them as they paused before the small enclosure of the yard.

Jon stopped and they shook hands, then he nodded for her to go. She approached the steps and climbed onto the porch, her boots tapping upon the boards. At the door she paused a moment, then lifted her hand as she prayed it was the right place. Just as she knocked once it flew open and she caught her breath. Staring at the tall form lit from behind by the light, she swallowed and parted her lips.

"Jared?" she said, suddenly nervous but almost positive it was him. They stared at each other in silence for what seemed to be hours, then he bent forward and caught her up in his arms, lifting her and burying his face against the side of her neck.

"Thank God," he breathed, stiffening at the small cry they heard. Quickly setting her down he stared at her in shock as Micah's cries rose between them. He turned slightly and the light bathed the side of his profile. His brows shot up.

"Aileen?"

"Say hello to your son," she choked, tears in her eyes. Wishing she could see him more she slipped the shawl from her shoulder and unhooked the sling holding the baby. Then she lifted him toward his father and smiled. "His name is Micah—I hope you approve of the name."

His hand touched her elbow as he gently turned them toward the light. She studied his face, noting the scar that ran along his jaw and dipped toward his ear. There his hair brushed his collar, but his face looked clean shaven. She could smell the scent of the soap on his skin, and felt her gaze drawn to the place where his shirt lay half opened. His skin glowed like bronze in the lamplight, and when he pulled his gaze from Micah's face to look into her eyes she felt her heart pound wildly.

"I had no idea," he choked, glancing down to carefully take the baby. Cradling him against his chest, he traced the tiny cheek with one fingertip and swallowed with some effort. He looked up.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you," he said just above a whisper. She touched his chest as he leaned down to kiss her. Raising her arms, she clung to him and he deepened the kiss. It was hot and hungry and she returned it with all the love she felt for him. His hand clasped the back of her head as she moaned against his lips.

"I love you," she breathed, clinging to him as Micah fussed, beating Jared's chest with his tiny fist.

"How I've missed you," he rasped, kissing her hungrily until she gasped in shock.

"I forgot about Jon!" she remembered, turning in his arms to look back. "I'm so sorry—Jon?"

They gazed into the darkness, seeing no one. "Uri's man, Jon?" Jared wanted to confirm.

"Yes," she breathed, looking up at him. "He's been our protector ever since you were captured!"

"Jon!" he called, handing her the baby. He rushed down the stairs and partway into the woods, coming back within moments. He spread his arms. "He must have left."

She waited until he came to put his arm around her. "I didn't have the opportunity to thank him."

Jared nodded. "He's eager to be on his way back home," he stated, lifting a brow at her saucy smile.

"Not as eager as I," she teased, tucking Micah against her side as he took her hint and lifted an arm in invitation.

"Do come in, milady," he said in a husky voice, "your palace awaits."

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


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